Like Mother, Like Daughter
by AgiVega
Summary: Ten years after his act of treason, upon returning to England, Laurence finds Jane Roland curiously missing, and Emily, new captain of Excidium, hating him with a fiery passion. Learning the truth turns his whole world upside down...
1. The Last Farewell

**A/N:** Hi, everyone, here is the story I promised you back in August. Please, remember, that this one has absolutely nothing to do with my other chaptered Temeraire stories, although my one-shot, 'Her Captain', can be regarded as a prequel to it.

**Warning:** This is another **strong T-rated** story with several hints at sexuality, although no descriptions. Some bad language also occurs. You are advised to be at least 13 to read it.

**Disclaimer:** I wish Temeraire were mine (I mean, Laurence, LOL), but they belong to Naomi Novik.

Huge thanks to my friend **Michael for the beta** again!

Now, let's get started. If you are easily moved to tears, keep a hanky at hand, you might need it. :)

oOo

**LIKE MOTHER, LIKE DAUGHTER**

_I hate and I love: why I do it, perhaps you seek to know.  
I do not know, but I feel it to be, and I am tortured so._

_/Catullus/_

**Chapter 1**

**The Last Farewell**

_Covert of Dover, 25__th__ May, 1811_

"Are you sad, Emily?" Temeraire asked, gently nudging the girl with his muzzle.

"Just a little bit," she replied, watching as the orange, glowing sparks leapt into the air from the crackling fire. The night was pleasantly warm even without the fire, and still, Emily felt cold. Almost freezing.

Everyone around her was laughing, joking and drinking, a lot, celebrating old Berkley's sixtieth birthday, and Emily could not have felt more alienated. She felt no inclination to take part or even listen to their jokes, and did not even try to sneak herself some alcohol, even though they might not have scorned to share with her, Emily having reached the age of sixteen.

"I am sad too," the dragon admitted. "It was not very nice of them to drag us back to England just because they wanted me to give Iskierka another egg, and now they send us back to New South Wales… It has been so very nice to see Maximus and Lily and even fight a bit along them… I have so missed the fights in Australia…"

"And Iskierka too, right?" Emily gave him a crooked smile.

"Well…" Temeraire's voice trailed off, "a little bit, maybe. She was very annoying the first time around, but it was quite nice giving her that egg, and it was even nicer to find out that the egg was such a huge success… I am so very proud of my baby Gwendolyn."

"Gwendolyn isn't exactly a baby anymore," Emily pointed out. "More than a year old and almost bigger than you. But you are right… she's quite a success with both the divine wind and the ability to breath fire… no wonder the Admiralty wanted more of the Temeraire-Iskierka offspring… and you once again did well, twin eggs!"

"Oh, yes, we are very proud of them, really," Temeraire nodded enthusiastically.

"_We_?" Emily arched an eyebrow at him. "When have you started talking about yourself and Iskierka as in 'we'?

"Oh, must have been a slip of the tongue," the dragon said, looking away. "There has never really been a 'we', I mean, she and I are not made for each other, she is so very bothersome and so very stuck-up and…"

"…and you still like her. A lot," Emily nudged Temeraire with her elbow. "And let us admit, she is quite something. A fiery little girl. In both senses of the word."

"Hmm… yes, I think so. But pray do not tell her I said so! I would never live it down!"

"You will very likely never meet her again, so why would it be a problem if I told her?" Emily asked, but upon seeing the dragon's sour expression, so added with a sigh, "All right, all right, I promise I won't tell her."

"Not even if you are assigned to _her_ crew?" Temeraire enquired.

"No," Emily shook her head dejectedly. "Not even then. But I don't know yet whose crew I am going to be assigned to… Mother has not cared to tell me yet. She only said she wanted me to stay, for she thought I was finally old enough to be around even at times like this and even with her being who she is… You know, I never really knew _why_ she sent me to Australia in the first place… but I was so happy she did… and now I am so sad, having to stay… never seeing you again… I will be missing you so much…"

She blinked back a tear and sniffed, and after a long moment of silence, Temeraire spoke up, "You mean missing 'you' in the singular, as in missing _me_, or in the plural, as in missing… _Laurence and me_?"

With misty eyes, Emily looked up. "In the plural. Most definitely in the plural."

"Or rather, in the singular… in missing _him_…?" Temeraire said after a while, his voice unusually soft.

"Oh, no, I am going to miss you too, Temeraire! Very much! It's just that… that…"

"You are going to miss him more," the dragon finished her sentence, sympathy gleaming in his huge dark blue eyes.

Emily's shoulders sagged. "I think so. And I think… I should go and look for him and say good-bye… you are leaving early tomorrow and I seriously do not think I could bear to go and wave you off… it would be too heart-wrenching." Smothering a few tears in the corners of her eyes, she stood up from the log she had been sitting on and blew her nose. "Where do you think he might be?"

"I do not know," Temeraire shook his head. "I have not seen him for at least an hour. Last time I saw him, he was walking around the back of the covert grounds, around the cattle pen."

"Thanks, Temeraire, I shall try to find him. I will be back soon!"

o

After a few minutes of walking the noises of the aviators joking and drinking around the fire faded into a hazy murmur in the distance, while the mooing of the cows in the pen grew louder and louder.

It was full moon, giving Emily enough light to see if someone was walking around the area, but the only movements were that of the cattle inside the pen. And then, a voice caught her ears. A female voice, and a highly familiar one at that… only the way it was speaking… or rather… moaning, was unfamiliar.

_Mother?_ – Emily's eyes widened with worry as she ran towards the barn from where she suspected to have heard the voice. She fished a small knife out of her boots, and with that held at the ready, crept to the door, even though she did not hope to see much in the darkness. It crossed her mind that she should probably yell for Excidium, dragons having better hearing than humans and being able to arrive quicker to help, but upon peering inside, the yell froze in her throat and she nearly let the knife drop. The moon shone through a window in the opposite wall of the barn, illuminating a haystack and the tangled bodies of two people engaging in something quite different from wrestling.

Emily felt rooted to the spot – it was so repelling yet so… frighteningly beautiful at the same time. Her captain, her beloved, adored captain, was moving in rhythm with her mother as though they were just dancing a horizontal dance, their silhouettes bright in the moonshine; she was clawing at his back, leaving new marks to go with the faded ones of the one-time flogging, he moaned 'wildcat', she moaned 'goddamn tormentor', and Emily was sick to her stomach and still could not look away; her knuckles were white, she clutched at the knife so firmly; and finally it came to an end, and they both cried out and melted into the hay, their panting louder than the mooing of the cattle outside.

Emily flattened herself against the wall of the barn, just outside the door, her breath also coming in gasps, making her press a hand on her mouth to stifle it; a nasty yet pleasant pulsating sensation between her legs and tears running down her cheeks.

She had thought their relationship had ended all those years ago, before or right after his treason, and now to see them like this… it was simply unbearable.

"That was… the best bloody fuck of my whole life," she heard her mother from inside.

"You and your dirty mouth, Jane Roland," came Laurence's slightly reproachful voice, answered by a deep, hearty laugh from her mother.

"Admit that you like my dirty mouth sometimes… especially when it is doing you… certain things," her mother added.

"Jane, you make me blush."

"Oh, don't be such a prude, Laurence… Now, come here… hold me."

Minutes of silence followed, and Emily supposed they must have fallen asleep, and she knew she should be leaving, she should have left long ago, but her legs just would not cooperate.

"So, tomorrow morning, is it?" her mother's voice spoke up after a while, sounding oddly hollow.

"Yes. The _Allegiance_ is to leave port at eight o' clock, if the winds allow."

"Then this is truly our last farewell, Laurence… I doubt if I could make up another excuse to have you back, even for a brief time…"

"Oh, so making Temeraire mate with Iskierka was just an excuse to have me back?" replied Laurence's slightly surprised voice.

"Well, let's say it offered a brilliant opportunity to kill two birds with one stone," Jane chuckled.

"Then why tonight…?" he said. "Why only tonight? I have been here for three months…"

"But there have been no such excellent distractions as Berkley's birthday party for three months," Jane pointed out, "and I seriously did not want anyone to see you coming out of my room or me from yours… Those times are over when we could afford such indiscretion. But this… is our last chance, so I suggest we use it. Is Little Willy up for another go, hmm?"

"Little Willy is up already, if you have not noticed…"

This was when Emily decided she had had enough. Forcing her legs to obey the command of her mind, she broke into a run, away, away from the barn, past the celebrating crowd, ignoring Temeraire's call 'hey, Emily, where are you going?', and arriving into the barracks room she shared with another two female officers who, thankfully, were not present. She flung herself down on her bed and wept, not even noticing that she was still clutching at the knife.

oOo

_Nine months later_

The snow crust melted slightly and there were snowdrops poking their white little heads out from under their freezing blanket. The first heralds of spring.

Emily remembered well how delighted she had been as a child to spot the first snowdrops; every year she had run to her mother if she were around, shouting 'I have seen them, spring is here, spring is here!'

She would never again tell her mother that spring had come.

Bitter tears running down her cheeks, she placed her little bouquet of freshly picked snowdrops on the mound of earth currently serving to mark the resting place of Jane Roland. The burial had been just two days prior, and soon a flashy marble tombstone would replace the makeshift wooden cross. Emily already saw in her mind's eyes the epitaph: _'Jane Roland, Admiral of the Air, a patriot and a loving mother'_, admired by generations of aviators to come, as surely they would not even be able to pass by it without noticing – the grave stood under a willow tree in the Dover covert.

"I swear to you… to be a good captain to Excidium," Emily muttered, watching the drip-drip of snow melting from the willow's branches, landing on the wooden cross. "I shall never put you to shame… and I promise to be as good a sister as possible… a sister… and a substitute mother… but I am sorry… there is something I simply cannot do… please, forgive me for that…"

Her mind sluggishly returned to her mother's room of three days earlier – to her bed holding the most fragile, palest Jane Roland she had ever seen. Her mother had stretched out her hands towards her and had very feebly squeezed Emily's, a sad little smile on her lips. "Emily… promise me to take care of your brother… and of Excidium… and write to Laurence. Tell him… tell him that he's become a father. Surely… he will be happy to know. I think… deep down… he always wanted a family. Emily… I want you to know that… I loved him. I never showed… I thought it was weakness to show… but I loved him… more than any man, ever. As for your brother… christen him William. Promise me, Emily…"

"I promise you to take care of my brother and of Excidium… I promise, Mother," Emily had said, but she had been hesitant to utter the rest, and a few seconds later Jane had breathed her last without Emily having promised to write to Laurence or to christen the child after his father. And now she knew she would never do either of these things.

During her pregnancy, her mother had been set on hiding the child's paternity from everyone, even though Emily was sure that at least some must have guessed. With her death so close, Jane had obviously deemed it unnecessary to keep the secret, but Emily was intent on keeping it, therefore there was no power on earth to make her write that letter or name her little brother after that wretched man who had caused her mother's death! That wretched man whom she had loved with all her heart and trusted with her life, but who had abused her love and trust… although unknowingly, but he had done so…

The once shiny image that had lived in her head of her captain – the brave and honourable gentleman, the determined and loyal officer, the self-sacrificing martyr… all that had vanished to be replaced by the image of a man shamelessly squirming above her mother, panting in the same way a rugged sailor would in a brothel, and doing that to _her mother_… to… to a woman that was not _her_, not Emily!

Emily had never been as jealous as that night in the barn, and only once had she been almost equally jealous: two months later, the day her mother had told her with a sarcastic smile that she had suffered a little 'accident'. "At my age, can you imagine?" she had laughed dryly. "Oh, how I would like to see Laurence's face upon hearing this… But he must not find out. No one may find out. We are going to keep it a secret, Emily. People will naturally gossip, and many will guess, but we will never confirm their suspicions… a little game, and I think I am going to enjoy it… Just the timing… oh, the bloody timing… Napoleon is breathing down our necks and the Admiral of the Air is retching into chamber-pots. Talk of irony…"

All the way through her mother's pregnancy, Emily had been green with envy. She had been jealous of every kick her mother felt inside and even more jealous when she was invited to touch the funny little ripples of her mother's belly. She had been jealous of those rare but unearthly-beautiful smiles that had graced her mother's lips when she had thought no one was watching her… the pure brilliance of motherly love… and Emily had caught herself wondering whether Jane had been expecting _her_ with such love or had it been only reserved for this child, a child given by a man her mother actually loved? For Emily had never lulled herself into the belief that her mother had ever felt anything for her father, and even this had made her jealous: her father, whom she had never even met, had not been good enough for her mother to love, only Laurence, only blasted Laurence, the bloody hypocrite!

Involuntarily a scene many, many years earlier came to her mind: the disdainful expression on Laurence's face upon seeing the blushes of shame on Dunne and Hackley's cheeks, his voice peremptory as he had said, "They had deserted their posts and wilfully risked all the success of our enterprise, all for the satisfaction of the most base and carnal impulses." Talk about base and carnal impulses… _He_ was not better than Dunne and Hackley, not a bit, and he was a grown man, a man of circumspect decisions, not an exuberant twenty-year-old boy… and because of _his_ carnal impulses, her mother was dead.

Emily knew she would never forgive him for that. Neither for causing her mother's death, nor for instilling those horrible feelings of jealousy into her heart. She would hate him as long as she lived, with just as fiery a passion as she had loved him. Of her love for him, she had made a secret. Or her hate, she would never make a secret, and should they ever meet again – which she doubted and hoped against – she would show him without hesitation just how much she hated him.

"Forgive me, Mother," she muttered. "I know you loved him, but I do not. Not anymore."

With that, she turned on her heels and marched back to the barracks, leaving her childhood, her innocence and all her girly little dreams beside the snowdrop bouquet on the grave.

oOo

**A/N: Jane-fans, you surely hate me now. :P ****I must admit I wasn't very sad to see her gone (coughkillhercough) I never liked her much, her hollow relationship to Laurence always disturbed me. But at least in this chapter, I made her display some emotion for him, which, IMHO, the books painfully lacked. I think I wouldn't mind L/J in the books, if they actually loved each other, which they obviously don't. Oh well…**

**Nimbus Llewelyn, if you are reading this: I think now you ****can at least guess what was going on in the preview. ;)**

**Next chapter: five years later Laurence returns to England and gets surprised. And not just a little bit.**

**Reviews are always welcome!**


	2. Home, Sweet Home

**Chapter 2**

**Home, Sweet Home**

_Aboard the _Allegiance_, 14__th__ April, 1817_

„I can see Lizard Point, sir," Allen said with a wide grin, pointing at the horizon.

„Indeed?" Laurence looked up from Goethe's _Faust_ that he had been reading out to Temeraire, his heart lifting and sinking at the same time, if such a thing was possible at all. Normally he would have said it was impossible, and yet he felt both exhilarated and downcast at being home. Exhilarated, just like he had been six years earlier when they had returned to England so that Temeraire could breed with Iskierka; but downcast as well, knowing it would not last, just as it had not lasted the previous time: as soon as the dragons managed another egg, Temeraire and Laurence would be sent back to Australia once again.

Laurence had had enough of the Admiralty's little game of dragging them across two oceans every few years and only for a bit of a dragon mating, and he was aware that he was not the only one annoyed with this practice. He also knew, however, that _he_ could not complain: he could call himself lucky for being alive even ten years after his treason, for he could as well have died a horrible death, as Jane had once put it: 'hung, drawn and quartered'; but here he was, a man of forty-two, with greying temples but in excellent health, and only slightly annoyed with being forced to travel across half the world once again.

It was Temeraire for whose physical and psychical welfare he was worried: a Celestial, probably the rarest and most majestic type of dragon, used for mere construction works and various humbling tasks in a far corner of the world, and now even more humiliated by being ordered to breed.

Temeraire had quite clearly expressed his opinion of the whole business when they had received orders to return to England. "I can understand them that they want another egg from me in place of the one that was killed at Waterloo," he had said a bit dejectedly upon learning that one of his twin hatchlings had died in the battle, "but it is still not acceptable to use me as a mere stud! I am more than a mere stud! I need fighting and excitement, Laurence!"

The captain had consolingly patted his dragon's side. "I know you do, but no matter where you are at the moment, you will not very likely get it. Britain is currently at peace, no dragon needs to fight, not even Iskierka…"

"…which I believe must be making her very agitated," Temeraire had replied, coaxing a little laugh from Laurence's lips. "And if there _is_ peace, then why do they want another offspring from me and Iskierka?"

"Because peace never lasts long," Laurence had replied sombrely. "If we are not fighting with other nations, there are civil wars, rebellions within our country… peace is ever so fleeting."

"But surely the government would not want to employ dragons against England's own human population? That would be awful!" Temeraire had said indignantly.

"Well… they did on a few occasions. Cromwell used dragons in his time, and even five years ago the Corps was employed against the Luddites, if just for frightening them a bit. At least that is what I heard from others at the Sydney covert. Strangely… no one has bothered to write to _me_ in these six years. Not a single letter from Jane, nor from Granby…"

"Not even from Emily, and she had said before we left that she would miss us so very much!" the dragon had added. "That is not very nice of them to not write to us… And really, how come it was not Jane who sent you the orders to return to England?"

"I do not know," Laurence had shaken his head. "But I wonder why they made _Little_ an admiral in the first place…"

"I wonder that too," Temeraire had nodded. "After all, Little is just the captain of a Yellow-Reaper, and captains of smaller middle-weights rarely make admirals."

"Yes, it is most curious… Perhaps we should ask Tom, he might have heard a few things from Catherine…" But Riley had turned out to be in the dark where the Corps' business was concerned – apparently he and his wife had not been on speaking terms for years, their son being raised by the grandparents with the father almost constantly at sea and the mother flying circles above England.

Laurence's heart had gone out to both of them and their child: he could not fathom how horrible it may be to be married for propriety's sake only but not loving your partner. He would never be able to marry without love or at least without harbouring feelings close to love.

Had anyone asked him whether he had been in love with Jane Roland when he had proposed to her, he would have said no without thinking, but in his twelve years spent in the Corps his feelings for her had been the closest thing to romantic love, and there had been fleeting moments when he thought he had probably loved her.

He did not know what he would feel upon meeting her again – would his well-buried almost-love resurface or remain hidden? He wondered how he would react to find out that she had moved on… _if_ she had moved on at all. And for some reason he seriously hoped she had.

With several questions in his head and a strange feeling of premonition in his heart, Laurence fixed his eyes upon the lighthouse of Lizard Point. It felt strange to be home.

oOo

The _Allegiance_ had not even put into the port of Dover when a flock of dragons appeared soaring to meet them – or perhaps not exactly to meet them, the dragons might have flown in their direction without knowing that _they_ had arrived. Although, Laurence thought, it would be hard to miss a ship of the _Allegiance_'s size.

"Is that not Excidium in the middle?" Fellowes said. He had been one of the very few of Temeraire's original crew allowed to go to Australia six years earlier.

"I don't know," Allen replied, straining his eyes.

"But of course it is!" Temeraire yelled in delight. "Shall we go and greet them, Laurence? Surely you would like to meet Jane…"

Laurence felt his cheeks turn slightly pink at the memories of their 'last farewell', but nodded. "With the current winds the _Allegiance_ will need hours to be able to put into port properly, so I do not see why we should wait here and not fly this small distance."

After saying good-bye to Captain Riley, Temeraire and his small crew went aloft. Laurence felt his heart soar for a short while, the white cliffs of Dover swishing past under them, fields of fresh, spring-green in the distance – nature could not produce this shade of green anywhere else on the globe but in his homeland.

"They seem to be patrolling," Temeraire said after a minute. "Must be horribly boring to do nothing but patrol, eat and occasionally mate… I bet not only Iskierka must be miffed about it but the rest of them too. And not only the dragons but their crews as well. Why, I cannot imagine Jane Roland sitting at her table all day and going on patrols once in a while… that is not her style."

"No, definitely not her style," Laurence replied as they approached the formation of six dragons flying neatly along the coastline.

"Excidium, hey, Excidium!" Temeraire called out when they were in earshot. "Look, we are back!"

"Oh, Temeraire…" the older dragon replied with not nearly as much enthusiasm as either Temeraire or Laurence had expected. The other five dragons around Excidium seemed either completely unfamiliar to Laurence or ones that he had seen a few times but whose names he did not manage to recall.

"Are you not happy to see us?" Temeraire enquired from Excidium.

"Oh, we have been expecting you," the older dragon replied somewhat tersely, and Laurence gently hushed Temeraire when his dragon muttered to him over his shoulder, "That was not even a reply to my question".

Temeraire sidled somewhat closer to Excidium, as close as the two dragons flying on Excidium's right would allow, and tried once more to start decent conversation by saying, "We are very happy to be back, Australia has been so very boring, but Laurence says that England is at peace now which means now England must be very boring too, having nothing else to do but patrolling… is that true?"

"Duty can never be boring," Excidium replied coolly, "but now that you mention it, our duty for the day is over, there comes our relief," he pointed at a flock of dragons approaching from the direction of the covert. "We are going back, are we not, Emily?"

"Yes, my dear, definitely," came the reply from the captain's place on Excidium's neck, making both Laurence and Temeraire stare at the source of the voice with eyes wide like saucers.

There was no mistake: the woman wearing the captain's coat with the three stripes reserved for formation leaders was not Jane, but Emily Roland. She glanced in their direction, but only for a second, then looked away, however that one second had been enough for Laurence to feel a strange, unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach. The eyes of Emily Roland had been those of a hawk searching for its prey, and Laurence could not help but think that _he_ was that prey.

Excidium, not even paying attention to Temeraire anymore, quickly outdistanced them, and Laurence could not even be surprised that an older and less agile dragon had outflown Temeraire: his dragon was simply too baffled to keep the pace, his wings flapping half-heartedly.

"That was really not a nice way to welcome us," Temeraire opined when Excidium and his formation were reduced to several dots in the distance. "What got into him?"

"I would rather ask, what got into _her_?" Laurence murmured, trying to convince himself that he had only imagined the hawk-like expression in Emily's eyes. "And where on earth is Jane?"

"Probably taking a vacation?" Temeraire suggested.

"Jane, on a vacation?" Laurence snorted. "I would sooner be the Chinese emperor…"

"Well, you _are _adopted by the Chinese emperor…" Temeraire began, craning his neck to look at his captain, but upon seeing Laurence's frown, he did not finish the sentence. "Come, let us find out about your Jane," he said finally, and having managed to overcome his surprise, flew like a dart towards the Dover covert.

"Er… Temeraire… please be so kind and not call her 'my Jane'," Laurence replied, feeling his cheeks burn, knowing that Allen, Fellows and Blythe had heard it all. "She never was… not really…"

o

Excidium was being unharnessed as they put down in the covert grounds, most of his crew had already dispersed, only a few harnessmen were still working on him and Emily was explaining something to him in hushed tones.

As Temeraire descended, the young woman looked up for a second then turned her head away.

Laurence felt a sudden need to talk to her – if someone knew where Jane was, then she definitely did.

He quickly climbed down from Temeraire's back and set out over the lawn towards his one-time runner. She either did not notice him stepping to her or pretended not to, and only then did she look up when he cleared his throat and addressed her, "Emily?"

"Captain Roland, if you please," she said with no trace of her former gentleness in her voice. She sounded harsh, masculine and defiant.

"I beg your pardon, _Captain Roland_," Laurence bowed slightly. "I am just so very surprised to see you on Excidium as his captain… please, forgive me and allow me to ask, has your mother retired?"

Emily gave him a look of contempt, her mouth that, in her childhood, had used to tremble with emotion so often, was now a thin line, her eyebrows knitted, giving her the look of a strict, elderly matron instead of a twenty-two-year-old girl. "Retired?" she snorted, her voice harsher and lower than ever. "You could say that." With that she turned on her heels and marched away, leaving an appalled Laurence behind.

He looked after her receding figure, his heart and mind a jumble of feelings and thoughts.

He did not know how long he started after her and only then did he come to his senses when a huge hand slapped him on the shoulder from behind, making his knees buckle with the force of the slap.

"Nice to have you back, old chum, Maximus has been telling me for weeks and weeks that you two were coming back… he was practically beside himself with glee…"

Laurence, delighted to see a friendly face at last, vigorously shook Berkley's hand. "I am glad to be back, and trust me, so is Temeraire… he is only a bit hurt to think that of all the things he could do for Britain, only his breeding services are needed over and over again…"

"Ha! I can imagine that!" Berkley said. "My Maximus used to be rather grouchy about having to mate too. Not that he did not enjoy it at first, but you know those stupid breeders… they want more and more… no wonder the poor creatures tend to be put off after a while… But do tell, what was that expression on your face when I arrived? You were staring into empty space like you had seen a ghost or something…"

"No, not a ghost," Laurence shook his head, "only… Emily Roland."

"Oh," Berkley made a grimace. "You need not say any more."

"But she seemed to… _hate me_."

"Hate you, you say? No, I don't think so, she's like that to almost everyone. Time and hardships have turned her into this… no wonder, she had to take on Excidium's captaincy, from ensign she got suddenly promoted to formation leader, and having to deal with her little brother too…"

"Little brother?" Laurence's eyebrows jumped high. "So that is why Jane retired? She got married and had a child?"

Berkley looked suddenly awkward for some reason. "Married? Nay. She was never the type… and what makes you think she… _retired_?"

"Well, Emily said so…" Laurence replied, not being able to interpret that peculiar gleam in old Berkley's eyes. Were those… tears?

"Well, the thing is… old chum…" the other man said, his voice unusually raspy, "she did not retire. We lost her."

Laurence felt as though someone had dropped a bucketful of ice into his stomach. "She is… she is… dead?"

"Afraid so," Berkley nodded.

"When? At Waterloo?" Laurence asked in a wavering voice. He could not imagine any other death worthy of Jane Roland than one on the battlefield.

"If only," the older captain shook his head. "It was the child. Or… the Lord's will, whichever you like. And it was not even that the child was too big or something… nay, as far as I remember, he was just five and a half pounds, a sickly little thing… but Roland was old. Too old for childbirth, the doctor said. Messy business, I'm telling you. Someone like Roland definitely deserved a more glorious way to snuff it… So now you understand. Emily has been through a lot, captain, formation leader, sister, substitute mother all in one… and practically a child herself."

"But… did the father not help?" Laurence furrowed his brows. He had always despised those bloody cowards who got a woman pregnant then left, like Emily's father…

"Well…" Berkley ran a hand nervously through his crew cut – something Laurence had never seen him doing, "the thing is, the father was never around, we don't even know for sure who it was… neither of the Roland women ever disclosed it… but… if you allow me such presumption… I've always suspected it to be you."

Laurence felt as though he had been slapped in the face, harder than ever. "_Me?_"

oOo

**A/N:**** feedback would be highly appreciated!**

**Historical note:** the Luddites were a social movement of British textile artisans in the early nineteenth century (starting in 1811) who protested – often by destroying mechanized looms – against the changes produced by the Industrial Revolution, which they felt were leaving them without work. (source: wikipedia)


	3. Reversed Roles

_Nimbus Llewelyn:_ dunno about Berkley's age, we should ask Novik. I for some reason always imagined him about 20 years older than Laurence.

**Chapter 3**

**Reversed Roles**

Laurence was at a loss for words. "What… what makes you think that I… I am the father?" he stammered after several long seconds of awkward silence.

"Oh well… pure maths," Berkley shrugged. "You were here for three months six years ago, and roughly nine months after you left, Roland had the child. Of course, she might have lain with someone right after you left… but then there is the resemblance. The kid is way too fair-haired and blue-eyed for it to be a mere coincidence… unless of course Roland was partial to blond men with blue eyes…" He scratched at his head. "And judging by your expression, the idea of you being the father is not at all that far-fetched…"

Laurence blanched while under different circumstances he would have blushed to the roots of his hair. "That is why Emily was so cold towards me…" he muttered under his breath. "She knows that I got Jane pregnant and… O God…" He felt tears well up in his eyes. "That was so utterly…"

"…irresponsible?" Berkley offered.

"That too… but I would rather call it selfish and despicable," Laurence hung his head. "Oh, Jane… if I had known…"

"You would not have been able to do anything from the other end of the world," Berkley replied, "so why blame yourself? Accidents happen…"

"But this accident should not have happened!" Laurence snapped. "Jane always used to be so very careful, she always consulted the calendar, and…" _But she might not have done it the last time, that night being her last chance to be with me,_ he added in thought.

Berkley put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Listen here, Laurence. It is no use accusing yourself, because you cannot help it, she's gone. But… if you want to make things right so badly… probably you still can… with your son. I'm telling you, the poor kid badly needs a father."

Laurence swallowed hard and blinked back his tears. "You are right, Berkley. I have to do my duty towards my son… _if_ he is my son at all."

"Well, if you don't believe my words… you will surely believe your eyes," the older captain said good-naturedly. "Besides… we all know Roland was not the epitome of chastity, but I seriously don't think she would have jumped out of your bed and into someone else's just like that…"

Laurence's cheeks burned with shame. If only they had done it in a bed… He felt bad enough about having given Jane an illegitimate child, even worse for it having caused her to die, but to think it had all happened in the cow barn… Not that Jane had minded the scene, but Laurence had felt pangs of remorse about it already then, in her arms…

"Where… where is the boy?" he asked finally, his voice sounding unfamiliar even to himself.

Berkley gave him a warm smile. "Come, I'll show you."

oOo

He immediately spotted his son amongst the children playing a game of ball on the court – his son was the youngest and smallest of all, as the others must have been at least seven years old to become cadets. Despite being at least two years younger and a head shorter than the rest, the boy was probably the quickest, chasing the ball like a fair-haired bolt of lightning.

"He will make a great runner," Laurence said, his voice barely a whisper as he and Berkley stood in the shadow of a pillar in the cloister encircling the court.

"Yes, a great runner, and a great captain some day," Berkley nodded. "He ain't afraid of dragons at all, Roland takes him flying on Excidium every other day, the boy had sat on a dragon before he could even walk…"

Laurence's throat closed with emotion. "If only… if only I had been here… to see him grow up. But I won't be here long, Berkley… no matter how much I want to fulfil my duties as a father… I cannot raise him or even help Emily raise him. I will be sent back to Australia as soon as Iskierka has another egg from Temeraire… Seriously… I doubt if I have a right to go to him… talk to him… and I do not even know his name."

"Jason. Roland named him Jason."

Laurence felt a temptation to ask 'which Roland?', but came to realise that it did not matter.

At that moment Jason Roland squealed with delight and ran after the ball that had rolled to the edge of the court and stopped right before Laurence's feet. Laurence bent down and picked it up, then took a tentative step towards the little boy, offering him the ball.

"Thank you, sir," Jason said with an innocent smile, his blue eyes, so like his father's, sparkling with joy.

"You are welcome, Jason," Laurence replied.

"How do you know my name… sir?" the boy asked, surprised. "We have not been introduced yet…"

Laurence stifled a chuckle. Apparently Emily had done a nice job of teaching her little brother some manners. "My name is Will Laurence, and I have heard you are Jason Roland, so we are now introduced."

"Pleased to meet you, sir," the boy said brightly.

"Hey, Jason, are you coming back, or what?" one of the boys, probably eight years of age, yelled at him.

Laurence expected his son to turn on his heels and run to join the young cadets, but to his surprise Jason did not, instead he flung the ball back to the others and turned to the two captains. "Captain Berkley, is Will Laurence your friend?" he enquired.

"Yes, very much so," the older man nodded, the twitching of his moustache suggesting that he was trying to hide a grin.

"And do you have a dragon too, sir?" Jason asked Laurence.

"Yes," Laurence crouched down to be at eye-level with the boy, "I have a huge dragon, almost as big as Captain Berkley's Maximus, only black and Chinese. He is a Celestial, would you like to see him?"

"Oh, very much!" the boy nodded. "I've never seen a Celestial. Never even heard of it."

Laurence cast a sideways glance at Berkley who looked away, his cheeks slightly redder than usual. Apparently no one had mentioned anything about William Laurence and Temeraire to Jason. But probably that was the best… for if Jason had never heard of them, he surely did not know Laurence was a traitor and did not have a natural aversion to him. Of course, Laurence knew that some day he would need to tell the boy, _if_ he had a chance at all to bring up the subject, but first he had to let Jason get to know him better, to grow fond of him. Not to mention that Jason, at age five, would not wholly understand the concept of treason, only that it was something nasty that only bad people do.

"You have never heard of Celestials?" Laurence gave his son a smile. "I am sure you will think they are beautiful, my Temeraire definitely is."

"Temeraire?" Jason cocked his head with a slight frown. "What a funny name! I'd like to meet your Temeraire, sir. When can we go?"

"Jason Roland!" came Emily's harsh voice from the end of the cloister-passage. Her face was stricter than ever as she stepped to them, her arms akimbo as she glowered down at her brother. "What have I told you about not talking to strangers?"

"But Emily, Will Laurence isn't a stranger, we have been introduced," Jason opposed.

Emily's eyes narrowed and Laurence had a feeling that her piercing, reproachful look was just as much directed at him as at Jason. He rose from his crouching position to better overcome the feeling of being scolded by a mother for a childish misdeed, and straightened his back as much as possible, which made him tower a head over Emily.

"Introduced?" Emily asked from Jason. "By Captain Berkley, I presume? What exactly has Captain Berkley told you about this person?"

"Only that he is his friend," Jason shrugged.

"Well, he might be Captain Berkley's friend, but he is no friend of ours," Emily replied to his little brother, and taking him by the hand, began leading him away, "and I would not like to see you talking to him again, understood, Jason?"

The little boy gave his sister a jerky nod, but sent a half-scared, half-curious glance at Laurence over his shoulder.

Laurence leaned against the pillar, heaving a deep sigh. "That went horribly." The way Emily had talked to the child, the way she had not even glanced at _him_ while she did so, was worse than if she had looked him in the eye and told him outright to keep away from Jason.

"It could have gone worse," Berkley remarked. "But chin up, Laurence, you've got to get used to the thought that Roland is like that… colder than an icicle and more prickly than a thistle."

Laurence wistfully looked after Emily and his son until they disappeared on the corner. "But does she treat him well… or does she treat him the same way as…?"

"As us? Nay, you don't have to worry about that," the older captain shook his head. "I've seen them on a couple of occasions when they thought they were alone, out in the grounds… she can be gentler than you would imagine… but the only ones who receive any gentleness from her are Jason and Excidium. She lives for these two, and for duty only. Mind you, I don't think she's had a single man in her life, she's just so stiff-necked and unapproachable."

"No wonder she is… and no wonder she hates me so much," Laurence said, his eyes directed back at the children playing in the court, but not really seeing them, "I have taken everything from her that she cherished. Her mother, her childhood… it is only natural she does not want me to take away her brother as well. I can understand her, Berkley. Perfectly understand her."

"'Course you do, 'cause you're a bloody sentimental, that's what you are," the older captain shook his head in disbelief. "I'm telling you, she has had time enough to overcome her grief and anger, she has no right to punish the whole world for what happened…"

"But she has every right to punish _me_," Laurence replied.

"By all means, let her punish you if that's what makes you happy, O Holy Martyr," Berkley said mockingly, "but if I were in your place, I would not let her forbid my son to talk to me." With that he slapped Laurence's shoulder and ambled off, leaving Laurence to watch the children's game and wonder whether he could ever put this whole mess right…

oOo

"I know that look, Laurence," Admiral Little said from behind his writing table, giving the newcomer a slightly bored glance over the edge of the report he was reading. "You too wonder why on earth they made the captain of a Yellow-Reaper admiral, let alone Admiral of the Air?"

"I have not asked such a thing, sir," Laurence replied, "I am merely here to report our arrival."

"No, you have not said it, but you have thought it," Little drawled, flicking his long, wavy black hair behind his shoulders. His china-blue eyes held sarcasm and stoicism – apparently his right to his current post had been questioned too many times by too many people. "Therefore, to save you the trouble of asking someone, I'm telling you. And this must be the hundredth time I've told someone this story… you can guess how boring it becomes with time…" Little poured himself some tea, dripping a bit of it on a parchment but not bothering to mop it up, and sipped at the liquid that seemed to have long got cold; at least it was not steaming at all. "It so happened that after Roland's death Portland was appointed Admiral of the Air, but he was killed at Waterloo, and since Immortalis and I were lucky enough to save Wellington's neck in the battle, we got the promotion. Would you like some tea?"

"No, Admiral, thank you." Laurence decided not to comment on the 'we' part – Little had always been eccentric, a bit of a dreamer, not exactly the type one would imagine at the head of the Aerial Corps. Based on his story, Little had merely been at the right place at the right time, earning himself greater a promotion than he could ever dream of.

"And you had better not," Little made a face as he swallowed a bigger gulp. "This brew is quite horrible. Or perhaps I just should not have let it get cold…? Oh, never mind. So, to business. Here you are with Temeraire, your dragon ready to mate with Iskierka, I presume?"

"Yes, I hope so, sir," Laurence replied. "Where and when are the dragons to meet?"

"I sent Granby and that damned beast of his to London a few weeks ago, but I expect them to be back in a couple of days. Until then I require you to serve. And well, even after Iskierka arrives. The dragons can mate in the evenings and they can patrol by day. I understand you already have harnessmen and a lieutenant, right? You get some additional members to your temporary crew: a rifleman and two ensigns, I hope that will suffice?"

"More than suffice, Admiral," Laurence said, feeling a bit of a relief – even though Temeraire had always found patrolling boring, he would surely be happy to know his services were needed elsewhere as well, not only in the mating department.

"Of course you can't choose them yourself, they have been appointed already," Little carried on, ladling sugar liberally into his tea, probably in the hope of making it at least somewhat enjoyable. "I must tell that none of them are too enthusiastic about serving with you, but what can you expect? They will do their duty and you will do yours. Besides, it is only for a short while, there is a hatchling at Loch Laggan currently being trained up for the job."

Laurence bowed slightly. "Who else are we going to be serving with, if I may ask, sir?"

"Last month we lost Captain Lovegood, and his Dorothea decided she would not take another captain, so now Excidium's formation is one dragon short."

Laurence nodded – he had certainly noticed that three dragons had flown on Excidium's left and only two on his right.

"Temeraire is to fill in the gap," Little carried on, "and I am damn sorry to put you on Excidium's formation…"

"Why… sir?" Laurence knitted his eyebrows, although he was not at all happy to be placed under Emily Roland's command.

"Because of Roland, of course," Little waved his hand, pouring all his tea into a flowerpot. "Utterly horrible. I mean, the tea. But let us face it, so is Captain Roland. No one in their right mind likes to serve under her… how do they call her again? Miss Thistle?" Little scratched at his jaw, his eyes ponderous. "Yes, I think that's what I heard… oh well, here are your orders," he handed Laurence the parchment he had formerly soaked in tea, "and the best of luck. You will sure as hell need it."

oOo

Emily had not seen Laurence for hours after she had 'saved' Jason from him, but she expected they would meet at dinner at the latest. And she did not look forward to it, not in the least. Having him near made her want to punch something, preferably Laurence himself, or even Admiral Little for having called Temeraire back and with the dragon, Laurence as well. She had so hoped she would never see him again, and here he was, the bane of her life, the murderer of her mother, the tormentor who had appeared in her dreams just too many times to bear with sanity… here he was to torment her again.

After having trusted Jason to the care of Annabelle Larkin, a lieutenant on her crew, Emily went for a walk, hoping to clear her head a bit. However, Laurence's imaginary form accompanied her all along, his serene blue eyes in her mind looking sad at seeing her pull Jason away, the innocence almost palpable on his features at asking whether her mother had retired…

Without noticing where her legs were taking her, she ended up under a glorious weeping willow whose spring-fresh yellow branches seemed almost too cheery hanging above the white marble tomb. "See, Mother, my mind is no longer in command of my body," Emily muttered with a sarcastic smile, "I did not even intend to come here… but here I am, and I am desperate… He is back! What am I to do with him? When I first spotted him on Temeraire's back, I almost felt…" _That I loved him still_, she finished in thought. "Never mind. I have not forgiven him, and never will, and I can only hope that you will some day forgive _me_ for not having written to him and for not having named Jason _William_. I was so angry, Mother… so jealous… you never loved _my_ father! Had I been a boy, you still wouldn't have named me Jason after my father, would you? No," she shook her head. "You wouldn't. And see? I'm rambling, but you must forgive me for it, I am so utterly confused… but not confused enough to know that I won't let him take Jason away from me! Ever!"

Emily sniffed, wiping her face and was surprised to see tears on her fingers – she had not cried since the day she had placed the snowdrop bouquet on the grave. For five years she had been strong, for Jason, for Excidium, for Britain, for herself. But now her strength wavered, and she hated even the slightest semblance of weakness. She would not let herself be weak, she would not let _him_ weaken her!

"I know you loved him, but I do not," she whispered – the words had not changed in five years, only the flowers did: after the burial there had been only her small white bouquet resting on the mound of earth, now there was not a day from early spring to late autumn that someone had not placed flowers on the grave: tulips, hyacinths, daisies, lilacs, roses, depending on the season; white, pink, yellow… but no one had ever placed a red rose there before.

Not until today.

Emily bent down for it – the flower seemed fresh, as though picked just a few hours ago, and early for the season, very likely coming from a greenhouse, probably from the gardens near the covert.

Her hand closed around the flower and bitter tears flowed down her cheeks, her whole body trembling. _No weakness, no weakness__!_ her mind screamed, and when she let go of the rose, it fell back on the grave, its thorns shining red with Emily's blood.

oOo

"Captain Roland, I have been looking for you," Laurence approached Emily before the covert dining room. "May I have a word?"

The young woman gave him a piercing look. "I'm all ears, Captain… but we had better walk a little further away from others. I expect this conversation is not going to be pleasant and I would not like to attract unwanted attention."

Laurence nodded; he had not expected it to be pleasant at all.

She took the lead with determined, masculine steps, and stopped two hundred yards into the grounds, rounding on him and crossing her arms before her chest. "_Now_ you may speak."

Originally he had only wanted to give her the orders from Admiral Little without even expressing his dismay at the way she had dragged Jason from him, but his resolve crumbled as he spotted bandages on her right hand. He had not noticed them before she had crossed her arms, and now he blurted out without thinking, "What happened to your hand? Are you hurt?"

"No, I am not hurt, at least not physically," she replied coldly, "but I _am_ hurt by your cheek: barely an hour after you and Temeraire landed, you were already harassing my little brother!"

"_Harassing?_" Laurence gasped, anger surging up in him. In the past few hours he had tried to convince himself that she had every right to treat him the way she had and he had been determined to give her time to soften towards him, but this word, this single word had sent him over the edge. "Your brother is _my son_, and if talking to my son is harassment…"

"He is no son of yours!" Emily snapped, her eyes gleaming with fury.

"Are you telling me that his birth date and the resemblance between him and me are mere coincidences?"

"That's not what I'm telling," her voice rose in the pitch, "I'm telling that you don't have the right to claim him as your son! He is Jane Roland's son, and _my _son, as _I_ have been the only parent he has ever known!"

"He would have known another, at least by repute, if you had just told him about me, but no, you obviously thought it was beneath your dignity to tell Jason his father was a traitor, did you not?" Laurence replied, his voice still as steady and measured as possible, but he was finding it harder and harder by the second to remind himself that he was talking to a woman who deserved some respect.

"I don't care about your being a bloody traitor, Laurence, I never did, but I _do_ care about you seducing my mother…!"

"Seducing your mother?" Laurence let out a cold laugh. "I am sure you do not care to know, but it was always _she_ who seduced _me_!"

Laurence had never been slapped by a woman before, not until now, and he stared at Emily with wide eyes, his hand pressed to his burning cheek.

"Don't you ever dare talk about my mother like that!" she shouted, her voice coming in gasps.

Laurence heaved a sigh, trying to calm himself and clasped his hands behind his back. "I did not intend to be disrespectful, especially not to the memory of such a great person as Jane, but let us face it… she was no saint."

"She was no saint, but you, Laurence, are a bloody hypocrite, and I will not sit back and watch as you ruin my little brother!" Emily lashed out at him again.

"_Ruin him_?" Laurence choked. "What are you talking about? I love the boy!"

"_Love him_?" Emily laughed shrilly. "You haven't known him for half a day, how could you possibly love him? You never did anything for him besides siring him the first place, so you have no goddamn right to talk! And if I so much as spot you trying to lure him to yourself…"

"What will you do then?" Laurence glowered down at her.

"I will tell him you are a traitor," she hissed, leaning closer to him to look him directly in the eye, "and whom do you think he will believe? You, the complete stranger, or me, who have practically been his mother for five years?"

"I will not let you intimidate me," he said through gritted teeth.

"I have not tried to intimidate you, I merely told you the facts," she said, her breath warm on his cheeks, and he noted to himself with a hint of surprise that she smelled of spring flowers; then she drew back, forcing her features to look cold and composed. "And now that we have cleared this little misunderstanding, you may tell me what you wanted in the first place."

"This is no misunderstanding," Laurence replied firmly, "but I expect we have made enough of a spectacle of ourselves already, so I will not give you any more of a reason to shout at me." He cast a sideways glance towards the building complex to see several of the officers loitering around, looking in their direction, but he was sure they had been far enough from them to not be overheard; only their gestures could have given away their argument, especially Emily's slapping him. "Anyway, I am here to give you my orders from Admiral Little." With that he handed her the parchment which Emily took with a disgusted expression. "That was the Admiral… I mean, the tea-blotches," Laurence added, although he had no idea why he felt it necessary to explain himself.

She unrolled the parchment and read it, then gave him a scowl. "So we are going to serve together? Or to be precise… _you_ are going to serve _under me_. Why, Captain Laurence, this is going to be something… new. Reversed roles…" Her mouth tucked into a raptor-like smile. "I think I might even enjoy it."

Laurence straightened his back and stared deep into her eyes. "I am not afraid of you, Captain Roland."

Emily's voice was low as she said, "You will be. Yes, you will be."

oOo

**A/N: I just love Star Wars, can you tell? ;)**

**In case you're wondering my choice of name for Jason… well, it had two reasons:**

1. "**Jason" sounds a bit like "Jane's son"**

**2. I thought the situation (Laurence returning to England after five years) was a bit like Clark returning to Earth after five years in Superman Returns, and you know his and Lois' son was called Jason in the movie. Consider this as a tribute to SR, an earlier fandom of mine. But don't worry, Jason Roland won't throw pianos. ;)**

**Next chapter: enter Granby and Iskierka! :)**

**Until then, please be so kind and leave a review!**


	4. This Means War

**A/N: this is the first long chapter in the story, and quite a few will follow, be prepared for some extra-long chapters later on!**

_T-2238:_ Things will continue going worse for quite a while before they start to get better. I LOVE torturing the main characters, no matter which fandom I'm writing in. ;)

_reading-rider:_ I'm glad you think I handled L's meeting with J and E well. I wanted to reply to your review, as it was signed, but apparently you disabled the PM option.

**Chapter 4**

**This Means War**

Thanks to their less than uplifting conversation before dinner, Laurence had completely lost his appetite and found himself picking at his meal. He even had to force a smile on his face when Catherine Harcourt – who refused to be called Catherine Riley – flopped down next to him and announced that she was damn happy to see him and that Lily was even happier to have finally met Temeraire.

Laurence tried to make polite small talk, but his thoughts kept wandering off to Jason and his guilty conscience, and more than once he caught himself glancing in Emily's direction, but she was either oblivious to his glances or was deliberately avoiding them.

"She has become a nasty piece of work, hasn't she?" Catherine said with a grimace, Laurence's furtive glances at Emily not having escaped her attention.

The man chose not to comment, observing the blood red port in his glass.

"Berkley told me about that scene in the court," she carried on. "I'm so sorry, Laurence… she had no right to that…"

"She had every right," he sighed, putting down his fork. "But Berkley is right, I cannot give up… I have to fight for my son."

Catherine gave him a warm smile and squeezed his arm gently. "It's good to know that the child _is_ yours, after all."

"Why?" Laurence raised an eyebrow at her. "Would it not be better for the child to be… someone else's? The son of an honourable man?"

Catherine rolled her eyes. "You might be a convicted traitor, Laurence, but I'm telling you, there's more honour in your little finger than in most men I know put together, and it is better for Jason to have a convicted traitor for a father who is honourable and willing to fight for him, than to be the son of someone not convicted but lacking honour. You are a gentleman through and through, and Jason can be… _must be_ proud to be your son."

Laurence felt like protesting, but there was so much sincerity in Catherine's eyes that he could not bring himself to object. It was obvious she believed every word she had said. If only Emily Roland would think half as much of him as Harcourt did… everything would be so much easier! He would not be forbidden to see Jason, she would not want to make his life in the service a living hell – which she would now, he was completely sure of that – and there was something else in his wish to be less hated by her… something he could not have explained. Perhaps it was the fact that she had once been such a faithful and kind officer of his? That he had once almost looked at her like at a daughter? That she had been so pretty when angry? Laurence did not know, he only knew he was chasing dreams if he hoped she would ever soften towards him.

"Thank you very much, your kind words mean a lot to me," he told Catherine before rising from the table.

She gave him a grin. "You have nothing to thank me for."

oOo

Although Catherine's words managed to warm his heart a bit, he felt he could not hope for proper consolation from anyone else than Temeraire. Upon arriving at the dragon grounds, however, Laurence did not find his dragon alone – there was a black and red striped creature next to him, almost as big as Temeraire himself, the two of them deep in conversation.

"Oh, Laurence, good that you have come, pray let me introduce to you my son, Antares," Temeraire said proudly. "He has the divine wind and the ability to breath fire, just like his older sister, Gwendolyn. He is the younger of the twin hatchlings… the one who survived Waterloo," he added with a little droop in his ruff. "His twin brother was named Atair. They were both named after stars, did you know?"

"Yes, I know," Laurence nodded – as a sailor, he had had to be familiar with the constellations and the brightest stars in them. He slightly bowed in Antares' direction. "Will Laurence, at your service."

Antares bent his head in return. "Pleased to meet you. Father has told me so much about you already… you must be a very great captain, at least according to Father you are. According to _my captain_ you are not… he said you once had him flogged."

Laurence's eyebrow shot up on his forehead. "Dunne… or Hackley?"

"Hackley," Antares replied, "the finest captain there is. Why on earth did you have him flogged? I tried to ask him a few times but he never cared to answer…"

Before Laurence could have replied, Temeraire spoke up, "Laurence had him flogged for endangering a mission by letting his most base and carnal impulses prevail, right, Laurence?"

Laurence felt his cheeks burn and his throat close, so he only nodded mutely.

"I do not really understand what you are talking about," Antares shook his head. "But there is my Hackley coming, I had better go… good night, Father, good night, Captain Laurence."

Laurence murmured a good-night in return and watched the dragon join his captain – Hackley, a man in his early thirties, spotted him and gave him a jerky nod of recognition, then turned away.

"I never really liked Hackley, anyway," Temeraire said in as hushed a tone as possible, "he used to be too exuberant while on my crew, and now he seems way too aloof."

"Just like everyone else with the exception of Berkley and Harcourt," Laurence sighed, lowering himself into the crook of the dragon's foreleg. "But the point is, they are not _really _aloof, only _we_ see them like that… they are just keeping their distances."

"Laurence, you look very sad," Temeraire observed. "What happened? Did someone tell you something nasty?"

"Nothing that I did not deserve," Laurence gently stroked the dragon's muzzle.

"But what happened?" Temeraire pressed. "You left shortly after noon and have not turned up all afternoon. I started to get worried about you… and now I am even more worried to see you like this."

Laurence gave his dragon a wan little smile, although he was not sure Temeraire could see it in the dim light of dusk. "It so happens… that not only you have a son… apparently I do too."

o

"I would never have thought Emily would turn so nasty," Temeraire opined once Laurence had finished recounting to him the afternoon's events and his amazing discovery of being a father. "And poor Jane… I am so sorry for her… I liked her."

"I did too," the man sighed. "Probably more than I thought I did."

"I think she did like you too, a lot, and I am sure she would not be happy to know Emily is keeping Jason away from you."

"We cannot be sure of that," Laurence shook his head dejectedly. "Jane certainly liked being… intimate with me… but she never wrote to me that she had got with child… probably she did not want me to know."

"But now you know, and you _are _going to do something about it, right, Laurence?"

"Right, my dear," the captain nodded. "I just do not know yet, what. Not to mention that we are not going to be staying long… a few months at most. There will not be many chances for me to be with Jason… It would have been hard enough approaching him without Emily constantly breathing down my neck, but as we are going to serve together, she will be around much too often, we are going to have the same shifts of work and free time, I cannot even sneak a few minutes with Jason while she is at work, as we are going to be working at the same time…"

"But would you have _sneaked _time with your son?" Temeraire asked, surprised. "You never struck me as a sneak, Laurence…"

The man stared at the ground, and said, determined, "For my son, I would do anything… even be a sneak, however dishonourable that sounds. Before dinner… Emily said I could not possibly love Jason yet as I did not even know him… but she was wrong. Oh, Temeraire, I never thought I would ever feel like this… that little boy is my flesh and blood… and he is so good-natured and innocent… how could I not love him?"

"You know what, Laurence?" the dragon replied, curling tighter around his captain, "Be a sneak for the child's sake, and sneak him down to me. I am dying to meet him." _And for your sake, I am going to be a bit of a sneak myself,_ he added in thought. He already had a plan.

oOo

Laurence barely slept a wink that night and spent most of the morning trying not to drop off – first he had to catch himself not to fall into his breakfast porridge, then even on Temeraire's back he was fighting to stay awake, his eyelids drooping every ten seconds. If their patrol had been slightly more interesting, he might not have had such problems staying awake, but flying endless circles above Dover then alongside the coastline would lull anyone into a slumber.

"Hey, Laurence, wake up, we are putting down for lunch," Temeraire tried to whisper to him confidentially, which he did not really manage, as even his slightest whisper carried dozens of metres in the air.

"Slumbering on duty, Captain Laurence?" Emily Roland asked scathingly as she spurred Excidium to land.

Laurence blushed to the roots of his hair and rubbed his eyes. "Beg your pardon, Captain Roland."

"No begging, Laurence," she replied with a malicious, lopsided grin. "Come to think of it, it is Thursday, is it not?" she said, looking around for confirmation from the other captains. "Thursday has always been the day of Dorothea's crew…"

Laurence arched an eyebrow at her, not having the slightest idea what she could be hinting at.

"We have been dividing tasks among ourselves," Emily explained with some barely hidden malice in her voice, "and as the formation consists of seven dragons, each of their crews received the honour of digging the day's dragon necessary pit once a week. Thursday has always been the pit-digging day of Dorothea's crew, and since Temeraire is filling Dorothea's place, today you are the fortunate ones. Of course, Dorothea was a Yellow-Reaper with a crew of fifteen, and every other dragon on our formation has a crew of at least as many, so it has never been particularly difficult to find men for the task… I am sorry to see you have only a lieutenant, a rifleman and two ensigns on your flight crew, I am afraid you too will have to help them, Captain Laurence…"

Laurence pretended not to have noticed the mockery in her voice and bowed slightly. "Naturally I take part in every task."

"Good," Emily nodded, the corners of her mouth drooping a bit – she had obviously expected him to refuse or at least look downright hurt. He would not give her the pleasure of seeing him displeased, he decided.

"But may I not help?" Temeraire offered. "My claws would surely be able to move bigger amounts of earth than your spades could, and I could even use the divine wind a bit…"

"The dragons are not labouring at lunch time," Emily said firmly. "It has been agreed among us that our dragons are doing just enough by flying all day, this is their time to rest."

"But what if I _want to_ help?" Temeraire objected.

"Temeraire, please," Laurence held up a hand. "I am sure we will manage, right, gentlemen?" he sent his freshly introduced crew a peremptory glance. The rifleman, a burly chap called Willoughby, gave him a defiant look in return, but the two ensigns, both around fourteen years of age, nodded with slightly anxious expressions. Laurence wondered what they could have heard about him to be so frightened.

Cepheus, a Parnassian, turned out to be carrying half a dozen spades and each of Temeraire's crew received one – Laurence himself held out one towards Willoughby that the man eventually took without a word.

Digging a necessary pit big enough for seven dragons, one of them a heavy-weight, was no small feat, and soon all five members of Temeraire's flight crew were sweating profusely.

Despite it being the middle of April, the sun shone mercilessly upon them as though it were July, and Laurence found himself forced to get rid of his coat and after a while even his shirt.

While they were labouring, the crews of the other six dragons were sitting in the shadows of their beasts and munching on their sandwiches. More often than not Laurence caught Emily's eyes directed at him, but as soon as their eyes met, she looked away, making him wonder whether he had seen a faint blush on her cheeks or had merely imagined it.

Finally they finished their work and put back on their cast off pieces of clothing, settling down by Temeraire's side with their own sandwiches.

Filling in the pit after the dragons had used it proved slightly easier a work physically, but somewhat stomach-turning an experience having just eaten their lunch.

Before they scrambled back on their dragons, Laurence was careful to mention to Emily, "It has been a most invigorating task, Captain Roland, it has helped me wake up properly, I thank you for that."

She gave him a withering glance and climbed into Excidium's waiting claws to be placed onto the dragon's back.

_First battle won,_ Laurence noted to himself with a small smile. He was sure there were many more to come, and he was not going to win all of them, but a few battles lost could still permit him to win the war. For it was obvious to him now: Emily Roland was waging a war against him, and Laurence did not intend to lose the war – he would fight for his son if that was the last thing he ever did.

oOo

They arrived back to the covert late in the afternoon, and after having made sure that Emily had not gone to the court where the children usually played at this time of the day, Laurence set out for the court himself.

Jason was there like the previous day, involved in another game of ball, and Laurence caught himself smiling as he leaned against a pillar, watching his son play. It was almost idyllic, almost like coming from a dream.

This was definitely not the way he had hoped to start a family, but he had got accustomed to the thought by now that nothing in his life happened the way he had expected it to happen, and so far still everything had turned out more or less acceptably, even if differently from his hopes and dreams. The respectable family he had pictured himself with Edith Galman as his wife now seemed in his head like a faded painting in a gilded frame hanging high on a wall, out of reach; and reality was another picture in a much shabbier frame, but vivid and almost heart-warming. But just almost.

It was hard to watch the little boy, yet push the thought out of his mind that this boy's existence had cost Jane her life, and it was even harder to not blame himself – but he had to try at least, for the sake of his sanity.

Berkley had been right to tell him that no matter what he did now, nothing would bring back Jane, so taking the blame for something that was the Lord's will was foolish and would only ruin his life even further. Laurence knew well enough that it would take him a long time, months, possibly even years to arrive at a point where he no longer blamed himself, but until then he had to fight the feeling and concentrate on the present and the future instead of on the past. Dwelling on 'what might have been' never led to anything good, anyway. Besides, if it was the Lord's will to take Jane's life, then it also must have been His will to send Laurence back to England and give him a chance to make amends. And he intended to do just that.

One of the children in the court shouted something at another, and Laurence, rousing from his reverie, watched with horror as his son got caught in the middle of a fist-fight he had apparently nothing to do with.

There were a few adults around, one of them a female lieutenant from Emily's crew, but none of them did anything about the fight, they did not even seem to be paying attention. Normally Laurence would have shrugged it off himself, saying 'boys will be boys', but there were _girls _among the fighters too, and there was _his son_, smaller and weaker than the rest.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Laurence waded into the throng of the fighters, pulling them apart as quick as he could. "Stop! Stop that!" he rumbled at them. "No fighting in the Corps, gentlemen!"

"But sir… those rules are for the officers only… we're just cadets," one of the boys said, wiping at his bloodied nose.

"That does not mean you have to hurt the innocent," Laurence reprimanded him, "you should be ashamed of yourself, all of you." He bent down to help a little girl up from the ground who gave him a grateful smile. Laurence had to admit he still had a hard time accepting that girls were treated the same way as boys within the Corps.

His own son was sporting a black-eye but grinning, but his grin faded slightly as Laurence turned to him and asked, "Are you all right, Jason?"

"I think so… sir," the boy replied a little hesitantly, making Laurence wonder whether Emily had told the boy nasty things about him already, besides that one sentence in the court that Laurence himself had heard, '_he might be Captain Berkley's friend, but he is no friend of ours_'.

"Does your eye hurt?"

"Just a little bit," Jason shrugged.

"Still, we had better put some ice on it, we can fetch some from the kitchen," Laurence suggested and Jason seemed willing to go with him – apparently Emily's statement that they were not friends had not affected the child much – but as soon as they stepped out of the court, the female lieutenant from Emily's crew who had been loitering aimlessly around, stepped up to them.

"Sir, I must insist that you leave that boy alone," she said firmly.

Laurence regarded her with eyes narrowed to slits. "So Captain Roland has set up a guard against me? Never mind. If you are entrusted to take care of Jason, you should have stopped him from getting involved in a fight he had nothing to do with… or at least be so kind and make sure he gets some ice on that black-eye." He smiled down at Jason, even if his facial muscles rebelled against displaying positive emotions under given circumstances. "I have to go now. Next time take better care, young man."

"I will," the boy grinned, and Laurence felt his anger vanish, only some bitterness remained.

With this bitterness in his heart he returned to his room and sat down to write a letter.

_Dear Mother,_

_I hope my letter finds you in good health. I am happy to let you know that I have returned to England, if only for a couple of months. These six years far from home have been a lot, and I expect next time Temeraire and I are sent back to Australia, we will have to stay there for ever. It was a miracle in itself that we were allowed to return for a short while six years ago_

The quill wavered in his hand. A miracle, indeed… if only he could tell his mother about the little miracle he and Jane had created during his last visit… but he could not. At least, not in a letter. If he were to tell her, he would tell her in person.

_and it was an equal miracle that we have been ordered to return once again. _

_I believe I need not express with words how happy I was when last time you agreed to meet me at a coffee house in London, even if for only half an hour. If such a meeting could be arranged again, you would make me even happier. _

_Please, let me know when and where we could meet and I will try to arrange my duties accordingly. This meeting is going to be a little more difficult to arrange than last time, as six years ago I did not have to fulfil patrol duty with Temeraire every day, something I am now required to do. Perhaps I could beg my formation leader for one day off and fly to London._

Laurence's face tucked into a sour grimace. The last thing he wanted to do was beg Emily for anything, but for a meeting with his mother, he would do it.

_Currently we are at the Dover covert, and the length of our stay in England depends on how quickly Temeraire manages to produce another heir with our fire-breather, Iskierka. They have already had three dragonets, one of which was sadly killed at Waterloo._

_Hoping for a way to meet you and sending all my love,_

_Your son,_

_William_

o

With the intention of visiting the nearest post office, Laurence left his room, and so immersed was he in his thoughts that he nearly walked into a lanky man on a corner.

"Watch your step, will you," the man began, "hey… is that you, Laurence? What is this walking around with your head hung, eh?"

"Good to see you too, Granby," Laurence managed a little smile. "I thought you would not return for a couple more days."

"Eh, Iskierka got over-excited once she heard from the couriers that Temeraire had arrived, there was no stopping her from taking wing and darting back here," Granby waved his hand with a smirk. "But honestly, is something wrong?"

Laurence shook his head. "It is just… Jason. I do not know if you are aware, but…"

"…the kid is yours," Granby finished the sentence. "Ha! I knew! At least… I was _almost _completely sure… Oh… _now_ I understand your face. Roland is giving you trouble, isn't she?"

"Trouble?" Laurence said caustically. "Trouble is a grave understatement. She does not even let me talk to the boy… she says I am going to ruin Jason if I do…"

"I very much hope you have not taken her seriously," Granby rolled his eyes. When Laurence did not reply, he let out a groan. "Oh, don't even tell me, you _have_. You and your stupid notions of honour and propriety… Do you seriously think you would harm your son in any way if you only talked to him? Roland is completely mad…"

"Mad, that is right, but… let us admit it, she has a point. I was careless to say the least, and Jane has died… something I still have not got over and do not know if I ever will…" Laurence sighed. "It was just too much for one day, finding out I had a son but lost a woman I cherished… that _the world_ lost a woman they cherished, because of me and my… lowly desires."

"What do you think would happen to the world if every man who lost his wife in childbirth began thinking like you do? No, don't tell me, because _I _am telling you: the world would be full of raving maniacs."

"So I am a raving maniac if I mourn her?" Laurence frowned at Granby. "Honestly I do not think so. Besides… she was not even my wife. If she had been…"

"Would you feel less guilty?"

Laurence bit into his lower lip. "Perhaps. A little."

Granby made a grimace. "_This_ I can understand. I too would feel guilty if my Johanna was born out of wedlock… but of course Betty would have killed me if I had not married her after she announced she was expecting…"

Laurence's face brightened. "You are married? And you have a daughter?"

"Yeah," Granby grinned. "She's one and a half, and a wilful little thing, although not as much as Iskierka, thank heaven… Iskierka is, of course, horribly jealous. I think every dragon sort of regards him or herself as the child of its captain, so no wonder they are jealous… is Temeraire not jealous of Jason?"

"Temeraire has not even met Jason yet… although he has urged me to try and sneak Jason down to him for a visit… I just do no know how to do it. Emily put a guard on the boy and if I so much as approach him…"

"Well," Granby said confidently, "perhaps someone else should approach him. Me, for example."

"You?"

"Why not? Jason has met me enough times to trust me, and he likes Iskierka, bless him… I could tell that bloodthirsty guard that I'm taking the boy up for a flight on Iskierka, then we could meet somewhere with you and Temeraire."

Laurence was touched. "John… this is very generous of you… but I cannot require you to lie for me…"

"I wouldn't be lying for _you_, but for my little friend Jason. Anything for the kids, Laurence, anything."

Laurence gave his one-time lieutenant an amused smile. He had never imagined he would see Granby married and talking about children like that. "Thank you for your offer, John, I am much obliged to you."

"Ah, come off it," Granby waved dismissively. "That is the least I can do for you… after all, we are grandfathers to the same kids, aren't we?" he added with a grin, meaning Gwendolyn and Antares. "And with some luck soon we will be grandfathers again."

"Yes," Laurence nodded, his mood lifting by the second. "But until then, please, do tell me about your family."

Granby flashed him with a roguish smile. "First of all, you need to know: my Betty is not an aviator. Thank heaven she is not… I don't think I could ever get aroused by a woman wearing trousers…"

oOo

Emily was doing something she had not done properly for years: she was inspecting her mirror image. There were a few premature wrinkles around her eyes and in the corners of her mouth, mostly visible when she smiled – something she did not often do.

Her hair was longer now than it had been in her teens, but still not long enough to put into a proper bun or a plait, so she just flattened it against her nape with pins, imitating a bun. Now that she removed the pins one by one and let her tresses fall around her neck, she spotted a few silver hairs, but thought gratefully that they melded pretty well with the rest of her sandy locks.

Having stripped to a chemise, she absent-mindedly ran a finger along her collarbone, questioning herself why she was observing her reflection at all. She had neglected her looks for years, but today something had attracted her to her mirror like a magnet, and suddenly she felt stupid and girlish: like that little runner who had been so pleased to receive her first silk dress and an elegant pearl necklace from her mother… she had then wanted to look pretty merely for prettiness' sake, but now… she could not have explained why; all she knew was that she was wondering whether she was pretty at all.

Her mirror image faded before her eyes to be replaced by a recent memory: Temeraire's crew labouring under the sweltering sun, three of the five men devoid of shirts, _Laurence _devoid of a shirt too, sweat glinting on his shoulders, the wan pink lines of the flogging criss-crossing his well-muscled back, and Emily caught herself wondering if some of the thinner marks had been caused by her mother's fingernails…

She shuddered and the memory vanished, and she once again found herself staring at her hazy reflection – hazy, because the mirror had fogged over due to her heavy breathing. She wiped it with a handkerchief, feeling disgusted and mad. Mad at him, mad at the whole world, but mad at herself too. She was not supposed to be affected by him like this! She hated him with all her heart, how could she then still… desire him?

With a few angry tugs she pulled her uniform back on, forced her locks back into the would-be bun, and marched out of her room. She badly needed something to put her mind off the shirtless Laurence, and decided that spending some time with her little brother would be the best kind of distraction.

Upon reaching the court where she expected to find Jason playing with other children, she found her second lieutenant Annabelle Larkin sitting in the shadow of a tree, reading Jane Austen's _Pride and Prejudice_, but her brother was nowhere to be seen.

"Larkin, where is Jason?" Emily asked with an ever-growing sensation of premonition.

The woman looked up from her book. "Captain Granby took him for a flight, sir."

"Granby?!" Emily gasped.

Annabelle knitted her eyebrows. "Is there a problem with that?"

"A problem?" Emily hissed. "A problem, you are asking?! For Christ's sake, do you know who Captain Granby is?"

"Er… the handler of Iskierka?" Annabelle said a little hesitantly.

Emily let out a groan. "Not only that! Granby used to be Laurence's first officer and they are still friends! Where do you think Granby took Jason, eh? To Laurence! Obviously!"

Annabelle pursed her lips. "I beg your pardon, Captain… I did not know that… I only knew Captain Granby to be an honest man… you used to let him take Jason before…"

"I used to, but only before _Laurence_ returned! From now on, you mustn't let Granby take Jason anywhere either, understood?"

"Yes, sir, but… forgive my cheek and… let me remind you that I am your second lieutenant," Annabelle said, her voice wavering slightly, "not Jason's nursemaid."

"_Third_ lieutenant," Emily grunted, and, turning on her heels, ran away.

oOo

"Remember, Temeraire, he does not know I am his father," Laurence said as they overlooked the Channel from a vantage point, the waves of the sea softly licking the white cliffs below.

"I know, I know, and I will keep my mouth shut about it," the dragon replied, "though in all honesty I do not understand why I must. Why can you not simply tell him the truth?"

"He would not understand," Laurence replied heavily. "He would be full of questions I am not yet ready to answer, especially not to a five-year-old…"

"You mean, you do not yet want to explain to him how eggs are made?" Temeraire wondered.

"That too," his captain blushed, "but there are other… hard-to-explain things as well… like… why I have been away all this time… I do not want to tell him about our exile… not yet, anyway. And if he happened to ask me about my relationship to his mother… well… I seriously do not know what I would tell him, as I myself am not exactly sure what kind of a relationship that was."

Temeraire gently nuzzled his captain, feeling that he needed some comfort, the poor thing looked so utterly confused, ashamed and scared! Yes, even scared, something Temeraire had barely seen him looking.

"So I must not even tell him I hope he will some day be my captain?" the dragon asked as Iskierka appeared in the distance, flying towards them.

"No, Temeraire, you must not," Laurence gave him a sad little smile, "but I really hope that some day… when I retire… he _will _be your captain."

Temeraire felt as though Laurence had tried to say something more, but had decided against it, and he hoped it was not 'when I retire… or die', for Temeraire still did not want to imagine what it would be like if Laurence died for real. He had once thought his precious captain dead, but after he had got him back, he simply refused to even think of Laurence's death, he had banished the barest possibility of it to the back of his mind and buried it under a pile of cast-away memories.

Captain and dragon waited with bated breaths until Iskierka put down with only Granby and Jason on her back.

"You look well, Temeraire," she said, "when shall we began mating?"

The two captains looked baffled and ruby-red, while Jason looked confused but curious.

Temeraire puffed up his ruff and said, "Not now, definitely not now, and if you would clear off now, I would be most grateful."

"Clear off?" Iskierka snorted. "I have just brought you a guest and have apparently done you a favour, so you _should_ be grateful…"

"Pardon me if I cannot express my immense gratitude just now," Temeraire grunted, "and please, leave us alone, I would like to get to know this young man here."

"Captain Granby, what did Iskierka mean by mating?" Jason asked, his blue eyes wide with interest.

"Er… well… ask Captain Laurence about that, will you?" Granby said, sending his one-time captain an apologetic grin.

"Okay," the little boy nodded and turned to Laurence. "What is mating, sir?"

Temeraire had seen his captain blush a few times, but never as badly as now. "That is… you know…"

"Making little dragons," Iskierka replied, her voice clearly showing her disdain at their awkwardness.

"Oh. And how are little dragons made? I once asked Emily but she wouldn't tell, she said I was too young for that."

"Then Emily was right," Laurence replied, beads of sweat running down the sides of his face.

"Really?" Jason looked doubtful. "I thought girls were never right. At least that's what the other boys said…"

"Oh, but in this case, your sister was definitely right," Laurence said. "So, what about introducing yourself to Temeraire?"

"Not a bad idea, kid," Granby helped Jason off Iskierka's back, into Laurence's waiting arms. "Come on, my dear, let us fly a little way off and let them talk in peace. Temeraire, just give us a wave with your wing once you are done so that we can take Jason back."

"Thanks, Captain Granby," the child said, sliding down from Laurence's arms, clearly not used to being carried around, "and I promise I shan't tell Emily you brought me to Will Laurence… I liked sitting on Iskierka again."

The Kazilik seemed rather pleased with herself, and with a withering glance at Temeraire, took wing.

Temeraire thought he saw a wistful look on Laurence's face when the little boy had scrambled down from his arms – he had only held his son for a few seconds.

"So, you're a Celestial?" Jason turned to Temeraire, no longer paying attention to Laurence.

"Yes," Temeraire bent his head closer to examine the tiny boy: he had barely ever seen a child smaller, probably only those babies that the women in Canton had waved in his face in the hope of a bit of a luck. "And you are Jason La… Roland, right?"

"Yes, yes, I am," the boy nodded. "And you? Why are you called Temeraire? That's not even a proper dragon name! And why are you black? I've never seen a black dragon… and what does it mean you're Chinese? What do Celestials do?"

Questions were practically pouring out of Jason's mouth and Temeraire found himself enjoying the responses he had an opportunity to give the boy, and apparently so did Jason himself, proving to be a very keen audience.

"Can you show me the divine wind?"

"Yes, naturally… see that tree over there?" When the boy nodded, Temeraire took a deep breath and let the divine wind free, uprooting the tree and scattering a bunch of boulders around it.

"Oh, wow!" Jason clapped enthusiastically.

"And that was not even the most it can do, just a little bit of presentation. Why, once I turned over a whole ship with it!"

"Temeraire, enough of the puffery," Laurence said gently.

"Right, enough of me, let us talk about you instead," Temeraire told Jason. "Tell us a bit about yourself."

"Okay… but what?"

"Do you like cows, for instance?"

"Cows?" Jason blinked, then understanding dawned on him and he answered with a bright smile, "Of course, they give delicious milk!"

"Oh," Temeraire realised that he had been completely misunderstood. "Never mind. Do you like books?"

"I don't know if I do, I can't read yet," Jason shook his head.

"Then you surely like looking at pictures in the books, do you not?" Laurence asked.

"Emily does not have books with pictures," Jason replied, "only those boring ones with all the letters in them... and she doesn't even read me from those, I think she dislikes books…"

"Oh, Laurence has loads of books with pictures!" Temeraire said. "I am sure he would gladly show them to you."

"Would you, sir?"

"Naturally, Jason. I could read them out to you, if you wish."

"Which ones would you read out to me?"

"Oh, there is the _Principia Mathematicae_, and the _Analects_…" Temeraire began, only to be silenced by a wave of Laurence's hand.

"Jason needs tales, Temeraire. Like the _Arabian Nights_ or the Greek myths… the tamer ones, of course…"

"Tamer? Are there untamed tales?" Jason frowned. "And what are the geek miss?"

"Greek myths," Laurence sat down on a rock, patting it next to himself, and Jason quite willingly sank down onto it next to his father. "The Greek are a nation like us, the British, they just live in a far side of the Mediterranean Sea, and many, many years ago they made up lots of beautiful tales… one of them was about Jason and the Golden Fleece."

"Jason? Like me?" the little boy's eyes sparkled with interest.

"Yes, there was a Greek hero named Jason, like you," Laurence said, his voice gentler than ever.

Temeraire fell into silence, listening to Laurence's words without a comment although he knew this story well enough and sometimes felt an urge to voice his own views, but held back, letting his captain prevail.

Jason got easily drawn into the tale, clinging to his father's every word. Temeraire's heart warmed at seeing his captain practically glowing with pride; a smile lingered on Laurence's lips such as Temeraire had long not seen him wearing, and his voice sounded as carefree and delightful as that one afternoon on Madeira twelve years earlier, when the three-week-old Temeraire had first decided to swim and his captain had bathed with him, frolicking like an exuberant teen, splashing him and laughing… How Temeraire had longed to see his captain like that again; and with his little son near, he almost looked as happy and carefree as he had all those years ago.

"…and then, Jason sowed the teeth of a dragon into a field and the teeth sprouted into a whole army of warriors wanting to attack him, but Jason was clever to throw a rock into their midst. The warriors did not know where the rock had come from, so they attacked and defeated one another."

"They must've been reeeeally stupid," the little boy commented.

"Yes, quite," Laurence grinned, "then Jason went for the Golden Fleece which was guarded by the Sleepless Dragon…"

His son listened with awe, and when the tale ended, he asked, "If we sowed Excidium's teeth, would they too turn into warriors?"

Laurence let out a hearty laugh. "I seriously do not think Excidium would let us pull out his teeth to be sown, but no… in reality dragon teeth do not turn into warriors."

"Not to mention how horrible Excidium would look without his teeth," Temeraire commented. "Why, talk of the devil… is that not Excidium over there?" he pointed on the horizon.

"Uh-oh," Laurence breathed, and in the next instant Iskierka put down next to them with an agitated Granby on her back.

"We've been spotted, I'm afraid," Granby said.

"I have noticed," Laurence sighed and put a hand on Jason's shoulder. "I think your sister is going to be really mad at us."

"I know," the boy wrinkled his nose, "she is often mad. But I like her still… she isn't as bad as she seems, you know…"

Judging by Laurence's sour expression, Temeraire thought that his captain did not share the child's optimism.

In half a minute Excidium descended next to them, stirring up dirt and hundreds of tiny rocks, and barely had he come to a stop when Emily practically leapt from his back, her face red with fury.

"I should have known! The two accomplices!" she shouted at Laurence and Granby. "Of course I shouldn't have expected anything else from a convicted traitor, but I expected more from you, Captain Granby! I am deeply disappointed in you, kidnapping my brother like that!"

"Kidnapping?" Granby gasped. "Beg your pardon, Captain Roland, I just took him for a flight…"

"For a flight, which _accidentally _ended at the back of beyond where Laurence and Temeraire had _accidentally_ turned up, eh?" she snapped. "Don't take me for a fool, Granby! And don't you dare ever lay hands on my brother again! The same stands for you, Laurence, and for your conniving beast!"

"But Emily, you have never called me a beast before, let alone conniving," Temeraire said, deeply hurt.

"Shut up, just shut up, will you?!" the young woman lashed out at him, then rounded on Jason. "And you, young man, you have disobeyed me, knowing well I have forbidden you to talk to Laurence…"

"But Emily… you haven't forbidden me… you only said they weren't our friends," the little boy said innocently, and Temeraire wondered how he managed to look unperturbed in the face of Emily's tirade that would have easily intimidated any other child. Perhaps Jason indeed knew something about Emily – something that the girl was not showing to anyone else…

"Then I'm telling you now," she said, taking the boy by the hand, and once she had secured him on Excidium's back, she looked back at the men and their dragons over her shoulder. "I did mean what I told you yesterday evening, Laurence. You have gone too far, so I am going further too. You will regret this as long as you live."

"That was not very nice," Iskierka grunted after Excidium had gone aloft. "I really do not understand what got into her, she used to be so nice when still on your crew," she turned to Temeraire.

"Yes," Temeraire agreed, watching with a sinking heart the sadness on Laurence's face. "She used to be so nice… but she no longer is. She is like as though she were fighting against us… as though she were at a war with us…"

"...because she is," Laurence said dispiritedly. "We _are _at a war, Temeraire. A different kind of war, but a war still… and we are going to fight and win, even if we need to resort to dishonourable means."

"All is fair in love and war, eh?" Granby said.

"Yes, John," Laurence nodded with a dark expression. "All is fair."

oOo

**A/N: I have made a little illustration of Laurence's first meeting with his son, you can view it by clicking on the link at the end of my ffnet profile.**

**See that little green text below? Click on it and review, please! :)**


	5. Only Human

**A/N:** this chapter is dedicated to _T-2238_, who, eager to see an update, reviewed the latest chapter twice. :)

Also thanks to _Nimbus Llewelyn_, for being such a faithful reviewer!

**Chapter 5**

**Only Human**

Emily felt wretched after what she had told her little brother about Laurence – ashamed but defiant at the same time: after all, what she had told Jason was true, _from a certain point of view_. But that did not lessen her pangs of remorse, nor did it lessen her anger with herself. She was partly angry at herself for having resorted to near lies, but even angrier at herself for feeling so ashamed about it, as she knew she should not: Laurence had ruined her life in every way possible, so it was utterly foolish of her to feel guilty about trying to get back at him.

But she felt guilty all the same, and not only because her actions had hurt Laurence and would continue to hurt him in the future, but also because they had hurt Jason too.

The little boy had been quite shaken by her words and it had taken Emily over an hour and lots of cuddling and soothing to get him to sleep, and when he had sunk into a fitful slumber, she finally allowed her so far suppressed emotions to take over. Afraid that her sniffing would wake Jason, she sidled out of the room she was sharing with him, hoping that she would run into no one on the corridors.

Her legs once again proved to have a mind of their own, and before she knew, she was blubbering in a small clearing, far from the barracks. This had been her little hideaway-clearing in her childhood, this was where she had often come if she wanted to give her feelings a free flow yet tried to conceal them from the rest of the world.

"It feels like it were just yesterday that I found you here in a similar situation… but it was twelve whole years ago," a soft male voice said somewhere at the edge of her conscious, and it took Emily several seconds to comprehend that she had not dreamed the voice. Slowly she raised her head to look into the face of William Laurence, his features barely readable in the darkness with only a few lanterns lit on nearby trees.

"What do you want?" she asked, wiping her tears and forcing her voice to sound as composed and as unwavering as possible. "Have you been following me?"

"I have to disappoint you, I have not," he shook his head, "I merely wanted to take a stroll and happened to walk into you here… and I cannot help it, the scene reminded me of one such a long time ago… I remember I managed to console you then with hot cocoa and a few kind words… I am not sure if I could console you now, even if I tried…"

"You are right, you could not, so spare yourself the trouble and clear off," she grunted.

He took a step towards her instead. "I have been thinking, Emily, and I believe we have approached the whole thing in the wrong way. We need not be enemies at all."

"Not enemies?" she snorted. "I don't see what else we could be. And since you do not seem willing to go, I will." With that she rose to her feet and strode off.

"Wait, Emily!" he hurried after her and whether instinctively or not, took her by the arm.

"_Captain Roland_!" she spat back at him. "You should finally learn to address me properly!" With a firm tug, she freed her arm from his grip. "And take your hands off me!"

"All right, all right, I am sorry!" he apologised. "I just wanted to talk… because I think we _should _talk."

"Well, I think not," she shot back.

"You are behaving like a petulant child, Em… Captain Roland."

"Like a petulant child?"

"Yes. I understand you bear a grudge against me, and with a good reason, I would never deny that, but I am sure we could work out something to reach a ceasefire, for even you must admit that it leads to no good if we are at war. It does no good to any of us, to you, to Jason, to me, to Temeraire…"

"Oh, so you admit that you killed my mother, ruined my life and left an unfortunate half-orphan behind, but you still expect me to cease fire and pretend that nothing happened? Pretend that I have not suffered all these years? Pretend that _Jason _has not suffered without his parents? Pretend that Britain did not suffer without a proper Admiral of the Air?" Emily was gasping for breath, her hands balled into fists. "Are you _really_ expecting me to shut my eyes to all this suffering and welcome you back with open arms?"

"No," he said heavily. "I did not expect anything of the sort. But I am sure we could discuss the subject like civilised people…"

"Civilised?" she hissed. "Oh, of course, because you were so damn civilised when you humped my mother in the cow barn!"

Even in the dim light of the lanterns, his face looked appalled, and he was rendered speechless for several long seconds. "You… you knew?" he stammered.

"Yes, I knew," she spat, fresh tears running down her cheeks at the resurfaced memory, "I saw it all, you goddamn son of a…" her voice trailed off. "Beg your pardon, your mother is a fine lady, but then I wonder where you got your vileness from! In my eyes you are no civilised being, and I will bloody well not discuss anything with you outside our patrol duty, and if you so much as approach me again, I will yell for help and tell everyone you were molesting me, and knowing what a wretched philanderer you are, guess whom they will believe?!" With that she once again turned on her heels to run away, and this time Laurence did not try to stop her.

o

He stared after her until her dark form melted into the night, his heart heavier than ever. He had expected it to be hard to even talk to her, even harder to make her realise that they could be anything but enemies, but he had never imagined how hard it would be to find out she had seen him and Jane in the barn all those years ago.

When he had spotted her in the clearing, weeping like a little girl, all his earlier resolve of 'fighting' felt like falling to pieces, one second of seeing her so weak and feminine had been enough to make him feel ashamed of _wanting to_ fight her at all.

He had been raised to respect women and treat them with utmost care, and even though he had at first tried to treat Emily the same way he had the males on his crew, he never really managed, so he had given up on it after a while. He had never wanted anyone to notice his attempts at furtively pampering Emily, and he was sure no one really had, not even Emily herself. Now, at the sound of her sniffing, he almost felt she was once again the secretly pampered member of his crew, the child he had considered the closest thing to a daughter… almost.

There had been something else as well, something he could not have quite put a finger on. Perhaps the defiance in her voice, her tear-soaked face visibly red with fury even in the scarce lantern-light, perhaps the way her chest rose and fell with shaky gasps as she poured her tirade upon him… there was definitely something more to her than had been all those years ago. Something dangerously feminine and almost… exciting.

She was like a whirlwind, not inherently malevolent as not even a typhoon could be called malevolent – a typhoon was, after all, a force of nature, formed by God's hands to destroy – Emily was a similar force of nature, inherently kind, only formed into something ruthless by the hands of an outsider. An outsider that happened to be him, Laurence admitted with a guilty conscience. Unaware and unwilling, but he and his actions had turned her into this natural disaster, and even though Laurence longed to have the good-natured, kind Emily back, something deep in him found the current Emily breathtaking. In both the good and the bad sense of the word.

He had on a few occasions heard from sailors stories about women who were attractive because of their defiance and snappishness. Before he had joined the Aerial Corps, Laurence had not been able to understand these men at all: how could a snappish and provocative woman be attractive when a lady's charms came from her refinement and modesty? Not even Jane had been snappish, at least not with him: true, she had been somewhat provocative, but not nearly as much as Emily had proved to be in these two short days.

Laurence would not admit it to anyone, but he felt downcast and excited at the same time: downcast by her refusal to even listen to him and allow him to make amends concerning Jason, but shamefully excited by her defiance. This was something new, something he did not know if he wanted to explore for fear of not being able to deal with it: Jane had been a difficult enough case to handle, but her daughter seemed a thousand times more difficult, and Laurence believed he had just enough hardship in his life even without thinking of Emily as an attractive woman.

And yet, when he recalled the bitterness in her voice shouting about her mother and the cow barn, he could not help but wonder if there had been more than just sadness to her tirade – whether there had been jealousy as well. And the more often he replayed the scene in his head, the more he believed those words to be that of a woman utterly, horribly jealous.

It was not that Emily had not known about his former relationship to her mother: she must have known about it well before she had caught him with Jane in the barn, after all, Jane had been demoted after his treason _because_ their love affair had become public knowledge. There was no way it could have managed to escape Emily's ears… So then, if she had known that he had been Jane's paramour, then why had it bothered her so much to have spotted them making love? Laurence could not imagine any other reason for that other than jealousy.

Of course, there was the possibility of having completely misunderstood her, as Laurence never regarded himself an expert on the female soul, but his instincts had usually proved right, which now gave him another problem to consider: if Emily was jealous of him for having slept with Jane, and if he found her alluring, then could they not…?

He shook his head. What a preposterous, sinful thought!

He could more or less accept the fact that he was drawn to her, after all he was only human and a healthy male, but she was forbidden fruit – his one-time lover's daughter and now his sworn enemy! And as his enemy, she was not supposed to feel anything for him, anything but anger at having 'killed' her mother with his carelessness… and if she still felt something more for him, she would certainly never admit that. Not to mention that her behaviour was that of a petulant child. Yes, a child, indeed. And Laurence did not deem it proper to even consider having feelings besides sympathy for a child who was not _his_ child.

Heaving a sigh, he headed back towards Temeraire, his heart full of concern. And his main concern was not even Emily's recent behaviour or his fleeting attraction towards her that, he hoped, was over now, but the idea that she had very likely told Jason about his being a traitor, and perhaps even more.

He had to find out what she had told his son, and the best way was to ask Jason himself. He knew Emily would set another guard on the boy tomorrow, but he would find a way to talk to him, somehow he surely would.

oOo

The next morning and early afternoon was spent with patrolling again until the relief arrived around three o'clock and they could return to the covert. The patrolling had gone more or less uneventfully, Emily had not even shot Laurence piercing glances but had completely ignored his presence and seemed to avoid even giving him and Temeraire instructions – not that any instructions were needed on a sunny day with no enemy in sight.

At lunchtime it had been Excidium's crew's turn to dig a necessary, but Emily, along with her lieutenants, had, naturally, not taken part in the work. Laurence could not help but notice that she had not even looked in the direction of the labourers, even though many of them had been just as shirtless as he and his small crew had been the previous day.

Upon returning to the covert, Laurence made a beeline for the courtyard, hoping to find his son there before any of the 'guards' from Excidium's crew could arrive to prevent them from talking.

He found his son in the court, but not playing with the others: he was sitting in the shadow of a tree, gazing at the ground, looking unusually sullen.

"Has someone hurt you?" Laurence asked, stepping to the child.

Jason looked up, his blue eyes widening, but not only with surprise but also with fear, Laurence noticed with a sinking heart.

"No, sir," the boy replied, his pale little face blanching even more. There were dark shadows under his eyes, suggesting that he had not slept much.

"Can I help somehow?"

Jason shook his head. "You can't, besides, we mustn't be talking, and I don't even want to talk to you… sir."

Laurence felt his throat close but somehow managed to press out the words, "What has Emily told you about me?"

At this, Jason jumped to his feet, his tiny hands balled into fists. "Just enough, sir! She told me you bit… bet… betrayed England because you did not like our country! And she told me you killed my mother! I hate you, sir!" With that, he turned on his heels and ran into the midst of the children in the middle of the court, but not to play with them, just to find a shorter way to cross the courtyard and get out of Laurence's sight.

With a lump in his throat, Laurence watched his son disappear, too shaken to be able to go after him, and having a feeling that it would not even do him any good if he tried to stop the boy and talk to him – Jason would not believe him as Emily had said he would not. Emily had practically been his mother for five years, of course the child would trust _her_ and not _him_, a complete stranger, a traitor and a… murderer.

Laurence wondered how Emily had managed to make Jason understand what treason was in the first place – it was not an easy notion at all. Perhaps Jason had not even fully understood it, but he had unconditionally accepted the fact that treason meant that Laurence did not love England. How could he explain to a five-year-old that his treason had not been _against_ England, but _for_ the dragons? And how could he explain that he had not exactly _killed_ Jane, that he had merely been… a male giving in to his animal instincts? The child would not understand that either, and he need not: at five years of age, he was not supposed to know about sexuality and conception. It was a wonder in itself that he had understood the idea of death at all – children at his age usually did not.

Bitterness such as he had never felt before filled Laurence's heart – self-accusation, anger at Emily for having twisted the truth to suit her needs, and plain sadness at hearing the words 'I hate you' from his own son. Plain, but deep like a gorge with no bridge to cross.

He slowly walked back towards the dragon grounds, hoping to seek consolation with Temeraire, but he found both Granby and Iskierka nearby, the female dragon announcing that she was more than ready for the mating.

"We can leave them in Iskierka's clearing for a couple of hours, she has ordered the ferals not to disturb her all afternoon," Granby said, wriggling his eyebrows and grinning, "I suggest we take them there and let them enjoy themselves."

Laurence tried to return his friend's grin, but his facial muscles would not cooperate. "Yes, yes, of course," was all he managed to say, and with a half minute flight both dragons touched down in Iskierka's clearing dominated by a handsome ornate pavilion.

"Good luck, my dear," Granby patted the Kazilik's flank, "and be nice to her," he added to Temeraire who only rolled his eyes and said, "Have I ever been anything but nice to her?"

"Well, I could mention a few times when you were downright nasty," she said testily.

"Times when you provoked me to be nasty," Temeraire shot back, "like when you went and got yourself caught and Laurence had to go after you and risk his life and he came back all depressed…"

Laurence stifled a sigh and looked away. He had never told Temeraire that the 'rescue Iskierka' mission had made his first and so far only true love a widow.

He had not thought of Edith Galman for ages, but now she appeared in his head against his will, looking elegant and pale, her eyes downcast, observing a small golden ring in her palm, all the sadness in the world compressed into her trembling lips. She was the epitome of feminine gentleness, the complete opposite of Emily Roland…

"Well, I've got to go, I haven't even said hello to our little admiral yet," Granby said, the pun very clearly intended.

Laurence nodded. "I am going to be back before dinner," he told Temeraire, then followed Granby out of the clearing.

After a few minutes of aimless strolling, trying to clear his head, he caught sight of Emily striding towards the covert gates. She spotted him, gave him a dark and mocking glance which suggested she knew or at least suspected, judging by his expression, that he had recently been rejected by his son. Of course she knew, _she_ had arranged it: she had lied to Jason, turned him against his father, and now even had the cheek to reap the benefits of her deceit with a derisive smirk!

Anger bubbled up in Laurence. A few minutes ago he had been merely sad, but now, seeing that fleeting, sarcastic grin on Emily's face, his sadness turned to rage.

Just half a day earlier he had been chiding himself for even entertaining the notion of fighting her, but now all his inhibitions flew out an imaginary window. _She_ had asked for the fight, so that was what she would get – but first, he would tell her what he thought of her and her lowly ways, he only had to catch her in a place where she could not escape him, where she could not shout for Excidium's or anyone else's help. He would not hurt her bodily, such a thing was beneath him, but he would give her a proper dressing-down and make sure she heard him out if that was the last thing he ever did!

She turned away from him, continuing her walk out of the covert, and Laurence decided to follow her. If he managed to catch up with her on the way between the covert and the populated part of Dover – a ten minute walk, as the builders of the covert had been careful enough not to place the dragons too close to the inhabited areas – he would stop her and she would not be able to do anything but listen to him with Excidium and the rest of the dragons too far to yell for.

The dusty road between the covert and the first houses on the skirts of Dover was more often than not deserted, the only stragglers that happened to be around from time to time were aviators, civilians giving it a wide berth. Laurence hoped the road would be just as empty as it was most of the time, but barely had he stepped through the gates when he ran almost headlong into a slightly inebriated Chenery.

"Hey, Laurence, whadda hell are ya doin' here, eh?" he slurred, hiccoughing as he patted Laurence's shoulder in a friendly way.

"Er… Temeraire has been ordered to return and give Iskierka another egg, but I beg your pardon, I must be on my way…" Laurence replied, glancing over Chenery's shoulder to see Emily getting further and further away.

"Ah, Iskierka, yeah!" the younger captain chuckled. "She's quite something, isn't she? The type of dragon that drives you up the wall but you simply can't not like her!"

"Well…" Laurence decided against expressing his views on Iskierka – the Kazilik had indeed managed to drive him up the wall a few times, and he could not honestly say he liked her. Temeraire surely did, even though he had tried to deny it, but Laurence had never managed to understand what his dragon liked about Iskierka. Not until now.

Now, thinking back on the previous evening's quarrel with Emily, he began to see the reasons why Temeraire must have found the annoying, fiery female dragon interesting: the same reasons for which _he_ had begun to find Emily interesting. This, however, reminded him of the purpose of his departure from the covert, and once again looked over Chenery's shoulder to see that the young woman had reached the crossroads and had not chosen the road that led into Dover itself but the other one that led to the seaside. All the better for him – he would hopefully be able to catch her alone there.

"Never mind, old chum, never mind, nice to see ya again, by the way, have you met Roland's kid yet, eh?" Chenery grinned, slightly swaying.

"Yes, I have…" Laurence said, feeling blood run to his cheeks. Tact had never been Chenery's forte.

"Hey, you've blushed!" the younger man once again slapped him on the shoulder. "I knew he was yours! Haha! Pretty much everyone suspected, but this blush has totally confirmed it! What does it feel like, bein' a father, huh?"

Laurence wanted to honestly say 'sad', but he did not think a drunk Chenery would either understand his predicament or keep his mouth shut to others about his confession, so he merely said, "Needs a bit of getting used to. And now if you will pardon me, I really must be off. It has been a pleasure seeing you, Chenery."

"Okaaaay, old friend," the younger captain staggered towards the covert gates, and Laurence finally managed to continue his pursuit of Emily Roland.

o

Half an hour later he reached the seaside, and looking down from the top of the white cliffs, spotted her sitting below on one of the small horizontal rock-surfaces joining the lengthy walls of limestone at their bottom. There was a narrow, hardly viable path leading down to the point where she was sitting, and from the distance it seemed that she was rubbing something small and dark in her hands.

Careful to avoid the pebbles rolling from under his feet, Laurence descended the path. As soon as he reached down on the small rocky patch, he spotted the mouth of a cave right behind Emily's back and suspected it to be one of those tunnels the British had used during the Napoleonic wars for hiding. The stone walls around the cave mouth were in a bad state due to erosion, probably their crumbling and falling into the sea had formed the narrow platform he was currently standing on.

There were several shells and knots of seaweed scattered all around, a tell-tale sign of ebb. Laurence suspected that during tide this platform was completely covered in water, and only due to the unusual warmth had the rocks managed to dry.

Emily did not look up as he approached, she probably had not even heard his steps amidst the loud cries of the seagulls, and only noticed his presence when he got close enough for his shadow to be cast over her.

Finally she raised her head and gave him a frown. "Can one never get rid of you, Laurence? I have left the covert to be alone, as apparently not even the covert grounds leave me any privacy any more, and you followed me here? Why on earth can you not leave me alone?"

"I shall leave you alone once you have listened to me," he said plainly.

"What do you want to tell me, eh? Apologise? Spare your breath, I'm not a forgiving type," she grunted, and looked down, continuing her earlier rubbing movement – now Laurence saw that she was polishing a pistol, one he remembered to have seen in Jane's hands, a handsome piece of weaponry.

"Are you by any chance planning to use that one on me?"

"Don't give me ideas," she replied, not even looking up at him.

"I meant it, Emily, we need to talk."

"Captain Roland, for the umpteenth time!" she snapped. "I am no longer the same little girl you could 'Emily' at your pleasure, I have grown up if you haven't noticed!"

"Yes, you have grown up, and from that honest little girl you have turned into a liar," Laurence said coldly.

"Liar?" she jumped up from the rock she was perched on, her eyes sparkling with fury.

"Yes, liar. I have talked to Jason and he told me what you had told him. I must say I am deeply disappointed in you, Roland," he replied, deliberately leaving out the 'Captain' part. They were currently not on duty and he thought she had lost her right to demand any sort of respect from him.

"_You_? Disappointed in _me_?" she let out a shrill laugh. "And what should _I_ say then? I used to respect, no, _adore_ you, Laurence, you were my captain, my hero, practically my god, and then… then… I saw you with my mother…"

"…and you realised I was only human," he finished her sentence. "I am not perfect, Roland, I have never been. I have tried to be honest and polite and just, but I do have my weaknesses… If you wanted an immaculate hero, then I am sorry to have disappointed. I am just a man like any other, I can love and hate and make mistakes… but I am no liar, and if I say I am truly sorry to have got your mother in trouble with my irresponsibility and even sorrier that I caused you all the pain, then you must believe me, for _I _would not lie to you like you did to my son."

"Hah! So you think that making Granby lie to my lieutenant was not a lie _you too _committed?"

"Granby did not lie to your lieutenant, nor did I ask him to do so, he merely brought me my son for a short talk as _you_ had forbidden me to take him… to which, I must say, you had no right."

"I am his legal guardian, so I have all the bloody right to forbid you…"

"Still, you had no right to tell him outright lies about me."

"I did not tell him outright lies," Emily said through gritted teeth, "I told him the truth, that you were a traitor and that you caused his mother's death, and don't even deny that it was what you did!"

"I do not deny being a traitor, but I deny not loving my country!" Laurence replied, his voice rising in the pitch. "I do not deny having impregnated Jane, but I deny killing her! Lots of women die in childbirth, and however regrettable that is, you have to face that it is a natural death, and you cannot name every father a murderer whose wife died giving birth!"

"She was not even your wife, you bloody rake!" Emily shouted. "You never cared to marry her!"

"I would have, if she had only said yes!" he snapped back.

"What?" Emily's eyes widened in shock.

Laurence heaved a deep, calming sigh. "I proposed to her, if you did not know, a week or so before the treason, but she refused. I tried to make an honest woman out of her, but she would not have it…"

"My mother _was _an honest woman, and don't you dare talk like that about her again, or…"

"Or…?" he challenged.

She levelled at him the pistol she had been clutching.

"…you would kill me?" he finished his own sentence, clasping his hands behind his back. "Go on. Do it. My life could not possibly be more miserable than it is now, having heard my son tell me he hated me, just because his cruel sister had lied to him, so kill me, for all I care. Just promise me to secure Temeraire's future in England. That is all I ask for. _Now_ you may shoot me."

The pistol wavered in her hand and her eyes seemed to water. "You have no idea how I'd love to pull the trigger…"

"You are gravely mistaken, I can very well imagine that, and I would not mind it much if you truly did… it would only end my misery. But would it end yours too?" he asked, knowing his words had struck home. He had had guns pointed at him a couple of times in his life, but he had never felt so calm about it before. There was slim chance that she would indeed kill him, he knew her from an early age: she had been inherently good, not a murderer. And if she proved him wrong and pulled the trigger, well… he hoped Temeraire would somehow come to terms with his death.

For several long moments they looked into each other's eyes, and Laurence was surprised, almost shocked to see the sadness and confusion in hers. With every passing second her resolve seemed to crumble more and more.

"Damn you, Laurence," she hissed, finally lowering her hand.

"I am damned already, I am afraid," he said, turning away from her to leave.

"Don't turn your back on me if I'm talking to you!" she yelled at him.

"I thought you did not want to talk to me," he doubled back, "and I have told you already everything I wanted to tell. I have nothing more to say… apart from the fact that if you do not shoot me now, then you must prepare for a war, for I will fight for Jason with whatever means I can find. You have a chance to stop that now."

Her whole body trembled as she snapped, "It's not even loaded, you goddamn bastard!" She pointed the pistol upwards and pulled the trigger for emphasis.

The shot reverberated off the rock surface, had probably even hit the cliffs above, but before Laurence could have corrected her by saying the gun _had_ apparently been loaded, the cliffs shuddered above them, and he only had a second to shove Emily towards the cave mouth before a volley of rocks came tumbling down upon them like a deadly white shower.


	6. To Mate or Not to Mate

**A/N:** thanks to everyone who reviewed the story so far. You are a small group, but very precious to me. :)

**Chapter 6**

**To Mate or Not To Mate, That Is The Question**

"Finally," Iskierka sighed, her voice coming out of her throat in a soft rumble that rather resembled the purr of a cat. "We are alone… just you and me…"

"Hmm… yes, about that," Temeraire took a step backwards which resulted in Iskierka taking a step forward, towards him.

"What about that?" she purred seductively.

"Er… well… the thing is… Iskierka, I am not going to mate with you."

"What?" she hissed and stopped in her stride. "What do you mean you are not going to…? That is why you have had to cross two oceans, to give me an egg!"

"And I _will _give you an egg… just not yet."

The female dragon gave him a confused-hurt look. "Why not yet? We are alone, I have sent Arkady and the others away, no one is going to disturb us, so why are you not willing…?"

"I have a very good reason, Iskierka."

"Oh! I knew! You have a sweetheart in Australia!" she spat, and with her words came an angry little flame nearly scorching Temeraire's muzzle.

"What? No, no I most definitely do not… but does that mean you would mind if I did?" Temeraire asked challengingly.

"No, of course I would _not_ mind, why would I mind, after all, you are just a simple ugly black dragon, why should I care if you had a sweetheart anywhere…" Iskierka went on with the air of a hurt princess, pulling herself upright to show that sitting on her haunches she was slightly taller than Temeraire.

"If you do not care, then why were you so upset when you thought I did have someone…?"

"I was not upset!" she retorted. "I am not! Why should I be upset? Besides, I am sure I could find another nice male dragon who would gladly oblige me…"

"But none who possesses the divine wind," he reminded her with a scathing edge, "and have you just said 'another _nice_' dragon? Does that mean you think I am nice?"

"You?" she gave him a contemptuous look. "You are delusional."

"Yes, of course, I am delusional," Temeraire decided it was not worth quarrelling with her, especially because she had always proved to be completely impossible to convince. "However, I feel the need to give you a proper explanation as to why I cannot give you an egg yet, and you will listen to me."

"Will I?"

"Yes, you will, otherwise your curiosity will not leave you alone."

"Hmmmph," Iskierka fumed, literally. "I do not like males trying to explain themselves. That is always so pathetic."

"Well, my explanation will not be pathetic," Temeraire straightened his back, "and even you might like it eventually."

"Why would I like it?"

"Because it is all about a plan, and a very good plan at that. A plan to keep Laurence and me here as long as possible."

"And what does that have to do with us not mating?" she wondered.

Temeraire resisted a temptation to roll his eyes. Iskierka had never been particularly bright. "If we do not mate now, we will not have an egg, and then Laurence and I can stay here. We can stay here _as long as_ you and I do not manage an egg. And if we do not manage one for a long time, then Laurence and I can stay here for a long time."

"And what is the part that I am supposed to like about this?" Iskierka bristled.

"Well, having me near, of course," Temeraire replied.

"A lot of good it will do me having you near if we are not even mating," she complained.

"Does that mean you actually… like mating with me?"

"Do not get complacent," she grunted.

"Complacent? Me? What are you talking about?" Temeraire asked innocently.

Iskierka gave him a long, searching look. "And do tell, how did you imagine us not mating when we are supposed to be doing just that? The others will notice…"

"Well, we can certainly produce all the noises we usually make when are at it and everyone will think we are really doing it…" Temeraire drew symbols into the dirt, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"The noises?" Iskierka's yellow eyes widened.

"Yes, the noises."

"Oh. I think I could manage that… only I will long all the way through to be actually mating with you instead of only pretending!"

"Hah, so you do like mating with me!"

"Not that _you _do not like mating with _me_!" she shot back.

"Point taken. So, are you willing to help Laurence and me in staying here?"

"That depends…" she curled her crimson tail around herself.

"Depends… on what?"

"On what you can give me as a… consolation prize."

"A consolation prize?" Temeraire choked.

"Yes. I must admit I feel bereft. No war, no killings, no prizes. I have not acquired a single prize for almost two years! I badly need something… new."

"But… but… I do not have anything I could give you," Temeraire backed away from her, one of his forelegs clutching at his breastplate. He would not give up on that, he had received it from Laurence!

"Oh, for heaven's sake, do not hold onto that stupid, dented thing," she snorted, "I do not want that."

"This is not a stupid dented thing, it is worth ten thousand pounds and I got it from Laurence!" Temeraire growled.

"Yes, yes, whatever," Iskierka said dismissively. "The point is: I do not need it, mine is much handsomer," she pointed at her golden breastplate adorned with rubies and emeralds. "I bet this one cost much more than just ten thousand… and I did not even get it from my captain, I got it for myself!"

"Show-off," Temeraire muttered under his breath. "So, if you do not want my breastplate, what do you want then?"

"Well… I have heard you got a pretty set of talon-sheaths from the Chinese emperor… I would love to have those."

"The whole set?" Temeraire gasped.

"It is only fair," Iskierka wagged the tip of her tail at him. "One talon-sheath for every week spent without mating. And once the ten weeks are over… you may find something else to give me if you are still unwilling to give me an egg."

Temeraire grunted but could not refuse the offer. Apparently Iskierka was cleverer than he had given her credit for. But she was not cleverer than him, and he would find out something to appease her once the ten weeks were over. That was more than two months, after all… and so much could happen in two months…

oOo

"How lucky the gun was _not_ loaded after all," Laurence said sarcastically, his voice coming in shaky gasps.

"I am sorry," Emily grunted, "I really thought it was not."

"A captain… who cannot distinguish between a loaded and an unloaded gun? I am ashamed of you, Roland… I thought you had learned more on my crew, how could I even promote you to ensign, I wonder?"

She gave him a defiant look. "I do not care what you think of me, and now, get off me, will you?"

"Oh," he reddened slightly, realising he was still on all fours, bent over her as he had instinctively tried to protect her from the falling rubble. He shifted his weight to the side, stifling a hiss – one of the rocks had hit him on the shoulder, and his breeches were torn on the left thigh, blood seeping through.

For a long moment both of them lay on their back, staring at the tunnel ceiling, their breaths loud and quick in the silence that was eventually broken by Emily. "Thank you… for shielding me from the rocks," she muttered, sitting up and tucking the pistol in her belt. "You have saved my life."

"I have not saved it, merely prolonged it with a few hours," he replied coldly.

"What do you mean by that?" she knitted her eyebrows.

"What do I mean by that?" he shot her a mocking glance as he too sat up. "Well, look around, Captain Roland! The tunnel seems to have caved in long ago, so there is no way we could walk down it in the hope of finding a way out somewhere under Dover castle, and you have just collapsed the other way out. We are stuck."

"Only because you foolishly shoved me towards the cave mouth instead of towards the sea!" she snapped.

"Oh, beg your pardon for letting my instincts to take over and push you into a more or less shielded area, I see now I should rather have left you out in the open air to get buried under half the cliffs of Dover!"

"Sarcasm just doesn't suit you, Laurence," she snarled. "Tharkay has been the master of that."

"I am sorry, this is the best sarcasm I can manage."

She regarded him for a long moment with an almost-smile, then turned away and looked around in the three by three metres section of the tunnel they were trapped in. There were several larger rocks piled upon each other, barring the entrance, and there were gaps among them big enough for some light to enter the tunnel, but none of the gaps was wide enough for even Emily to wriggle her fairly small body through. "But surely we _will_ be found…?" she said in a small voice so uncharacteristic of the Emily Roland Laurence had got to know in the past three days.

"Not fast enough," he replied, standing up and dusting off his coat.

"Not fast enough?" she echoed his words. "A human can go at least a week without food and days without water, and we will be missed by nightfall, troops will be sent to find us…"

"The tide will have come in by nightfall, Captain Roland," he replied testily.

"The tide? But surely it cannot be that high…?"

"The average difference between low and high water is twelve to sixteen inches throughout the globe, but guess what? At Dover it is more than one and a half fathoms, sometimes even reaches three, and this tunnel is less than one and a half fathoms high. If we are not found in about three hours, four at the most, we are going to drown. I must congratulate you, Captain Roland, it was very clever to demonstrate that the gun was _not_ loaded."

"You had me confused, for Christ's sake!" she jumped up from the ground, stamping her foot in fury.

"Confused? I thought you were merely angry and murderous."

She snorted. "I probably should have levelled that gun at you when I pulled the bloody trigger!"

"Yes," he nodded. "You probably should have. Then only I would have died. This way we are both sentenced to death."

Although the tunnel was far from bright with the only light coming in through the gaps amongst the rocks, he saw quite clearly that her lips trembled, and for a moment she looked like the same innocent little girl he had got to know twelve years earlier. "How… how can you talk about this with such indifference?" she muttered.

Laurence sank back onto the ground, his leg giving him more pain than he would allow her to see. "You know, Roland, if you are transferred from prison to prison for months, knowing you would be hanged as soon as your dragon put a toe out of line, you learn to think of your death with complete indifference."

Emily took a place next to him, biting her lower lip. "Did you… never regret your treason?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"At first I did not," he said, his eyes fixed upon his own dirt-covered boots. "I was sure I had done the right thing in saving the dragons of the world… but then I saw my country in ruins, I saw our fellow Britons slaughtered, our innocent women outraged… I saw my own mother pale and shaken… I saw my king mad and shouting that he was being chased by Napoleon's army… and I realised I might have made a huge mistake. I had thought I had chosen the lesser of two evils, but I came to realise that neither evil was smaller than the other."

"And what do you think _now_?" she gave him an almost compassionate look.

"I do not know what to think," Laurence shook his head. "All I know is that I am glad the dragons live and that I never stopped loving my country. I am a traitor, Emily… but I am a patriot also, however strange that may sound."

"It does not sound that strange," she replied, not even commenting on the 'Emily' part. "Laurence… whatever I told you yesterday… I think… I _still_ think you are a hero. Which of course does not mean I have stopped hating you…"

"I never assumed you have stopped hating me," he said, surprised that he was almost smiling. "But admit that you would never have told me this if we were not going to die."

"Of course I would not have told you," she smirked. "But…" she looked away, her cheeks colouring, "are you sure there is no chance of digging ourselves out? Removing the stones one by one or something?"

"I am no architect, but even I know that if we remove the smaller stones, the ceiling is going to collapse on us. See? Those rocks are currently holding up the ceiling," he pointed at the heap of rubble blocking their way out of the tunnel, then pointed at the tunnel ceiling where cracks had appeared and spread in all directions in a cobweb-like fashion.

"So we either let the rocks flatten us or the sea drown us," Emily drew the conclusion.

"Yes, that is pretty much the case," Laurence nodded grimly. "Unless, of course, our dragons notice our absence in time and come to save us… but even if they come, I do not know how they could get us out without the tunnel caving in on us in the process. And in all honesty I am not sanguine of Temeraire even noticing my absence… I imagine he is more occupied with other things right now."

"Other things?"

"Iskierka."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh," Laurence managed a half-smile. "He must be way too immersed in mating to notice if I do not return by dinnertime… not to mention that by dinnertime this tunnel will be fully flooded, so even if he does notice my absence… it will be too late."

"Excidium will not look for me either," Emily hung her head. "I told him I would spend the whole afternoon by the cliffs, he will not grow suspicious if I do not return any time soon."

A moment of silence ensued, the only sound the still distant murmur of the sea.

"Do you often spend your afternoons here?" he asked all of a sudden, lacking anything better to talk about.

"Not very often… but I like this place. I mean, I _used to_ like this place," she corrected herself with a grimace. "It has always been so peaceful… I used to bring Jason here too on a few occasions… I taught him fishing."

Laurence caught himself smiling at the picture his imagination painted before him: his little boy holding a few smaller fish he had caught, waving them proudly in Emily's face… If only he had been there to witness it for real…

"What will happen to Jason now?" he blurted out the question he had been almost too afraid to ask.

Tears filled Emily's eyes, but she blinked them back. "You need not worry, the Corps will take care of him. I think your friend Granby might even… adopt him. I know his wife Betty, she is a dear and loves Jason a lot."

"That is a relief," Laurence sighed, "to know he will be loved. I am just afraid for Temeraire's future…"

"So am I for Excidium's," she fished the pistol out of her belt and absent-mindedly ran a finger along the little dragonhead carvings on its grip.

"You like that gun," he observed.

"How could I not?" She cast a sideways glance at him and he thought he saw some impishness in her eyes. "You must be shocked to find I love spending time with a pistol… but I cannot help it… polishing it simply calms me."

"I am not shocked. I remember that gun from Jane's time. It was the first pistol that she bought from her first ever share in a prize."

"She told you?" Emily allowed herself a small laugh.

"I think she told me more than you would imagine."

At this, Emily pressed her lips tightly together and looked away.

"Have I hurt you?" Laurence asked, realising he might have been a little tactless.

"No," she shook her head. "At least… not now."

He tentatively reached out and covered her hand with his. "I am so sorry for having caused you all the pain, Emily."

She pulled her hand out from under his and clasped her hands in her lap. "Do not apologise. It is too late, Laurence."

"It is never too late."

She looked up at him, tears glinting in her eyes. "For me it is."

"It might be too late to heal the wounds, but it is never too late to talk about them," he said, as gently as he could while buried in a cave, the waves of the arriving tide lapping the rocks outside sounding nearer and nearer with every minute. "Tell me what you felt, Emily. Lash out at me if you feel the need to…"

"Is this the last wish sort of thing?" she arched an eyebrow at him, looking almost playful despite the seriousness of the situation.

"If you want it to be," he shrugged. "Here is your chance to take revenge on me. Kick me, strangle me, eviscerate me, whatever you like, I am your humble servant, Captain Roland."

"Eviscerating you sounds like fun… but I have an idea what might be even more fun," she replied, her voice sounding cold, but there was an unusual fire in her eyes. "I want you to make love to me."

oOo

**A/N: **a fathom is a nautical measure, equal to six feet or about 1.8 metres (thanks to Michael for the info… what would I do without him?)

_T-2238_: when I read in your review 'What will they do?' I had to laugh out loud. You can guess now why. ;)

**Until the next update, be sure to read my recently posted one-shot, **_**Of Birds and Bees and Dragons**_**, if you haven't done so yet! :)**

**REVIEW, PLEASE! **


	7. The White Cliffs of Dover

**A/N:** replies to unsigned reviews:

_Nimbus Llewelyn_: okay what?

_T-2238_: go better? I wouldn't be so optimistic in your place… No, things are going to get worse and worse for quite a while before they start to turn to the better. I just love torturing the characters! XD You have your question about Excidium answered in this chapter. :)

**Chapter 7**

**The White Cliffs of Dover**

"You… what?" Laurence gasped.

"You heard it well," Emily said, swallowing the lump in her throat and forcing her voice to sound as self-confident as possible.

"But… why…?"

Their eyes locked and Emily could see the disbelief in his. For a second she felt her resolve waver, felt shame wash over her for the mere proposition, but she quickly regained her composure. "Why, why," she rolled her eyes, "because I don't want to die a virgin, and as you are the only male around, you are the one I am asking. Will you or will you not oblige me?"

"I… well…"

"Oh come on, don't pretend it is not something you usually enjoy doing," she grunted, "or is Little Willy out of order by any chance?"

This managed to shake Laurence out of the shock that had almost rendered him dumb, and he hastily replied, "Of course it is_in _order, but…" his eyes once again bore into hers, glinting in a nervous way, "are you sure this is what you want?"

"This is what I have wanted since I was fourteen, so hell, yes," she snapped. "And if we happen to survive by some magic or deus ex machina, you will forget that I ever said this, understood?"

"I believe I will not need to forget it, as we are not going to survive," he replied with a slight waver in his voice.

"So then? Is anything keeping you from fulfilling a lady's last wish?" she crossed her arms with a defiant look.

For a long moment he regarded her silently, then, somewhat uncertainly, shook his head.

"Good," she said, her voice low and husky as she grabbed his neckcloth and pulled him closer. "I want my first time to be memorable, even if I will only have an hour or so to remember it. Don't spare me, Laurence, I want everything you can give."

"William," he panted, "for the time being… it is just… William."

"All right," she whispered, her lips nearly touching his. "So be it, _William_."

oOo

"I think that will be enough," Temeraire announced after a while.

"More than enough," Iskierka replied, disgruntled. "Making mating sounds while not doing it for real is not very interesting at all."

"But you did it brilliantly," he said, trying to appeal to her vanity.

"Oh, really?" she looked surprised first, then drew herself up proudly.

"Yes, but I hope you are aware you must not talk about this to anyone, not even to your captain. I will not mention it to Laurence either."

"All right, all right, it is our secret," she consented somewhat sulkily. "And what now?"

"Now I am going to look for Laurence and ask him how his little discussion with Jason went."

"And what about me?"

"What about you?" he gave her a confused look.

"I am bored! Can I not go with you?"

"This is going to be a _private_ discussion, so no, you cannot," Temeraire replied.

"Not that I really wanted to go," she bristled. "You and your stupid boring discussions!" With that she turned her back on him. "Go away, this is _my_ clearing."

"Yes, by all means. And thank you for the… mating today."

She snorted which nearly set the nearby trees on fire.

o

Temeraire touched down in his own clearing, and having spotted one of his newly appointed ensigns, a boy named Jenson, sent him to go look for Laurence.

The boy returned fifteen minutes later with the news that he had not found the captain either in his room or by the courtyard and had even asked Captain Berkley and Granby if they had seen him, but no one really had.

"Have _you_ seen him by any chance?" Temeraire peered over the hedge to look into the adjacent tiny clearing, the one belonging to Dulcia.

"Me? No," she shook her head. "Have you seen Captain Laurence, Chenery?"

"Laurence?" the man scratched at his head. "I seem to remember having met him… but I think I was a little... disoriented then…"

"Disoriented?" Temeraire echoed his words.

"He means drunk," Dulcia explained good-naturedly.

"Oh."

"So anyway, we met at the covert gates not much after I had met Miss Thistle there… that was around… half past three, I think…"

"Miss Thistle?" Temeraire blinked.

"He means Captain Roland."

"Oh, I see. And…?"

"And, I think he might have wanted to follow her, wherever she went…" Chenery continued, "problem is, no idea where she went, only that she was walking on the road between Dover and the covert… Mind you, he might not have wanted to follow her at all, dunno… I can't remember everything that well..."

Temeraire could not help it, he had a sense of premonition spreading in his stomach. It could not be a coincidence that Laurence was going in the same direction Emily was, and there must have been a good reason for him to want to follow her. Perhaps there had been problems around Jason again… "Thank you for the information, Chenery," Temeraire bowed his head, and took wing, hoping to find Excidium. If someone, then perhaps the older dragon knew what had happened and where Emily had gone. After all, he could not just search the whole of Dover after Laurence without making people scream and run…

oOo

Their breathing was almost louder than the splashes of the ever-nearing waves, and Laurence feared if he opened his eyes the magic would break and he would be encountered with a pair of hateful grey eyes. But the magic of the moment was broken when the first lick of water reached and tickled his big toe – it was cold, almost freezing, and he woke from his dream-like state, but found no hateful eyes staring at him, as Emily's eyelids were closed, her lips half-open, her sandy fringe sweaty and plastered to her forehead. With eyes closed, cheeks rosy, she looked like an angel, and for a moment Laurence could not even imagine that this fragile little being had only recently shouted at him, threatened him, turned his son against him… that this beautiful creature hated him at all.

Another wave licked his feet, and this time it must have licked hers as well, because she suddenly opened her eyes, for a moment looked slightly disoriented, then knitted her brows and hissed, "I still hate you."

"I know you do," he sighed, gently caressing the side of her face, but she caught his hand in mid-caress and pushed it away.

"Get off me."

Stifling another sigh, Laurence obliged, gathering his pieces of clothing and laying them down on a more or less flat-topped rock by the tunnel's wall, then offered her his hand to help her off the ground, but she waved him off.

"I can get up on my own, thank you very much," she grunted, but her grunt turned into a sharp, shocked intake of breath as she sat up.

"Are you well?" he asked, feeling foolish at being so worried about her health, with their deaths so near.

"As well as one can be after such a violent…" her voice trailed off and she looked away, her face redder than the setting sun.

"I am sorry. _You _wanted it to be… violent," he cast his eyes down.

"Never mind, I am not a china doll, I'm still in one piece," she murmured, and as she got up, bit into her lower lip, probably against a painful hiss. He felt guilty for not having been gentler with her, but could a man be gentle if his partner keeps shouting 'harder, damn it, harder' all the time? Besides, _she_ had not been gentle with him either, he realised upon sitting down on his clothes and leaning against the tunnel's wall: his back throbbed painfully as it touched the rock surface.

Emily too gathered her clothes from the ground before the waves reached there and joined him on the flat rock whose top reached about half a metre above the tunnel floor. Pulling up her legs, she sat as far from him as the rock's width and length would allow, observing her bloodied fingernails. "Sorry," she murmured after a while.

"Never mind," he replied, "I am used to it. Apparently you Roland women love to claw at your lover's back…"

"You are _not_ my lover, understood?" she snapped.

"Probably not at the moment… but what was I just a few minutes ago?" he gave her a challenging look.

"Merely a man to satisfy my needs," she said, encircling her knees with her arms.

"Oh. So you would have lain with any man in a similar situation?" he asked, not really knowing why it hurt him so much to think she would.

Emily shrugged, her eyes fixed upon the water now forming a thin layer on the entire tunnel floor. "I don't know if I would have. Well, certainly not with Berkley… nor with Little… and definitely not with Chenery…" she snorted. "I mean, Berkley is way too old and fat… Little is a snob and an idiot, and Chenery is never sane, not to mention his humour is so darn irritating…"

"And what about your lieutenants? I saw there were quite a few good-looking young men among them…"

"Does it _really_ interest you whom I would have been willing to lie with and whom not?" she frowned at him.

"I am just interested in learning about your taste, that is all," he said, feeling that his reply was rather lame and his whole behaviour utterly pathetic… as though he were deep down hoping she would say she would not have had anyone else but him. Then again, who was he to claim her heart… or body… just to himself?

"My taste is not worth learning about, it is sadly poor," she murmured, "otherwise I would not have… liked you as a teen."

Laurence knew she would never have admitted this to him under different circumstances, but somehow it still delighted him to know she _had _been attracted to him, even if that attraction had very likely ceased to exist by now. At the same time his heart filled with ache thinking what she must have gone through knowing he had been involved with her mother.

Involuntarily, as though obeying an instinct to console her, he reached out and gently ran a finger down her arm which made her shudder, but not in the disgusted sort of way. "I never… never fulfilled my mother's last wish, did you know?" she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.

Laurence shook his head. "How could I know that? I do not even know what her last wish was."

Emily let out a half-snort-half-chuckle as she said, "Well, it was nothing like mine, obviously…" Then she must have realised she had said something disrespectful and looked away again, hugging her upper body as though she were cold. She could have put her clothes back on, but as Laurence suspected, she too must have thought it a waste for the time being – it would warm her for no more than an hour, because as soon as the water was high enough, clothes would be useless against the bitter cold. And it was not even cold yet, the air was pleasantly warm. She shivered still, and Laurence reached out and gathered her in his arms, offering her as much of his own body heat as possible. To his surprise, she did not pull away.

"Mother… she wanted me to write to you," Emily muttered, burying her face in his shoulder, "and she wanted me to name my brother William. She must be… very mad at me for not having done these things… wherever she is now."

Tears were now freely flowing down her cheeks, and Laurence understood her guilt: not fulfilling the last wish of a dying person, especially if that person was her own mother, must have given her several sleepless nights. Still, he could not blame her for not writing to him and not naming the child after him. She had been too bitter, too angry, too jealous to do that… a mere child with a stolen childhood, all because of him. It was only natural she had refused to let him know about her little brother's existence… She must have suffered so much, and he could not make it right for her because they were going to die… and even if they had not been buried under half the cliffs of Dover with the tide coming, she still would not have let him put things right. Because she was just as proud as he was.

"Sssshhh," he whispered into her hair, gently rocking her, "I am sure she has forgiven you. She understands. Jane was never the unforgiving type… she even forgave me for everything I committed against her… and I never even deserved her forgiveness. How could she then not forgive you, her only daughter?"

Sniffing, Emily looked up. "Do you really think so?"

"Yes. I do. But you are shivering. Do you not want to dress?"

"Is there any use in it?" she gave him a sarcastic grimace.

"I do not know… but tell you what," he said, hoping to cheer her a bit, "when I was heading for the seaside, I was determined to give you a proper dressing-down for turning Jason against me. Well… I never imagined the _dressing-down_ to be like _this_…"

She laughed, her laughter echoing through the cavern, a jingling like bells, so beautiful and youthful and vivid… Laurence's heart sank thinking that this young woman was about to die soon. He did not regret his own death except for what it would entail for Temeraire, but Emily could and should have lived many, many more years…

"What?" she gave him a curious stare just as she had stopped laughing. "You are looking at me so weirdly…"

Laurence shook his head, not knowing what to say, he was too confused for that. She had awoken feelings in him, feelings he had long buried, and now he was left wondering whether these emotions were only due to their current predicament… At that moment he felt he was madly and hopelessly in love with her, but he could not tell her that if there was the slightest chance that his feelings could be only a trick of the situation. She would probably be pleased to hear the 'I love you' from him, but he could not lie to her if there was a chance his feelings were not true. He would not end his life with a lie or an almost-lie… He had always strived to live an honest life; he would not die in any other way.

"Here," he fumbled for a moment with his clothes and pulled out a rumpled but clean handkerchief. "Dry your tears."

"Is it worth drying them at all?" she arched an eyebrow at him. "I am going to be completely wet soon…"

"Then at least blow your nose," he shrugged, and with a half-grin, she obliged, the sound a bit like a trumpet, echoing throughout the tunnel.

"I hope you don't mind if I don't return this to you cleaned?" she said.

"I have never been one for dark humour, Emily," he shook his head with a hint of amusement.

"Neither have I… but isn't the situation a bit similar to when we were captured in Africa and Dyer asked if our captors were going to eat us? That was dark humour too…"

"Yes, but that did not involve any lovemaking," he blushed slightly.

"No… it did not," she looked deeply into his eyes. "How long do you think we have before this rock is flooded too?"

Laurence glanced down, seeing that about seven-eight centimetres of the rock's basement was already standing in water. "Let me remind you that I have never been particularly good at calculus… But I am assuming we have about half an hour. Why?"

"I was merely wondering…" she cast her eyes down, her cheeks flushing, "if we had enough time for acquiring some more… memories?"

Laurence raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you trying to seduce me again, Captain Roland?"

"Damn you, Laurence, yes," she grunted, climbing into his lap and pressing her lips to his.

oOo

Excidium was shaken out of his slumber as Temeraire touched down next to him.

"We must talk," Temeraire said.

"Oh, yes? And about what?" the Longwing yawned.

"I fear Laurence went after Emily and he has not returned yet, and I have a bad feeling about it."

"A bad feeling?" Excidium squinted at the younger dragon through half-closed eyelids. "Bad feelings are superstition, not to be trusted, that is what Jane always used to say…"

"Yes, Jane was a very pragmatic person, I know, but Laurence is more of a romantic type and therefore tends to get into trouble."

"He, getting into trouble? It is rather he getting _others_ in trouble!" Excidium snapped. "He got my Jane in trouble and she was killed by the egg he gave her!"

"Nonsense, eggs do not kill anyone of their own volition," Temeraire replied, annoyed that he was forced into such a stupid debate when Laurence's health or even his life might be in danger.

"Well, they do," Lily chimed in from the adjacent clearing, "Catherine's egg nearly killed her too, but of course it was that awful sailor's fault. It is always the father who is to blame."

"Yes, definitely," Excidium agreed, "and your captain _was_ an awful sailor too…"

"He was and is not awful, I do not care what you believe," Temeraire retorted. "I am very sorry about Jane, but we cannot waste time on quarrelling when Laurence might be in mortal peril! He left at half past three and it is nearly dinnertime! Something must have happened to him!"

"Perhaps Emily shot him," Excidium said hopefully.

"What?" Temeraire roared, his voice laced with the promise of the divine wind.

"Calm down, will you?" the older Longwing grunted. "Emily is no fool, she would not kill him, no matter how much he deserved it. I only hope _he_ has not killed _her_."

"What do you think of Laurence?" Temeraire hissed, scandalised. "He is no murderer!"

"He is a soldier, he has killed hundreds if not thousands," Excidium replied stoically, "but you are right, perhaps there is some foundation for worry. I am beginning to be worried for Emily if that scoundrel is anywhere near her. Come on, I know where she went, and if he followed her… we will find them."

"What, with no crew?" Lily asked nervously. "That is against the rules!"

"I am an outlaw either way," Temeraire shrugged, deciding not to comment on the 'scoundrel' part, "and I am only following my formation leader, right, Excidium?"

The older dragon gave him a grunt of assent and took wing with an anxious Temeraire in tow.

oOo

Their breathing was heavy, their bodies sweat-drenched and Emily felt she could not move even if she tried to, but it felt so good to be leaning against him, her head bent on his shoulder, their hearts throbbing to the same frantic rhythm… she felt in peace. She felt this was the place she had always longed to be: in his arms. For a short while she had even managed to forget why she was here, she had forgotten about death. For a short while she allowed herself to be happy.

She would never tell him just how happy he had made her, both physically and emotionally. For a fleeting second she considered letting him know how she felt, but something held her back. She had told him more than she should have, anyway. True, they were going to die and nothing really mattered any more, but the thorn he had planted in her heart all those years ago was still prickling enough to keep her from whispering those three short words…

_I love you._

It was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back. She loved him, but she hated him too, and she would not humiliate herself even more by confessing to him that she felt for him more than just hate. It was so simple, so easy to hate him… but it was too difficult to love him.

"Emily… precious… would you move a bit? I would like to dress," he muttered into her hair, shaking her out of her contented, dream-like state.

Reality fell upon her, heavily and crushingly, and she recoiled, disentangling herself from his arms, although slipping from his lap made her ache all over again. She bit back a hiss of pain and instead hissed at him, "I am no 'precious' to you, Laurence!"

"You _are_ precious to me," he replied, looking like a sad puppy as he gathered up his clothes and began to pull them back on.

"You are only saying that because we are going to die! You want me to think I mean something to you, just to enlighten your guilty conscience, but guess what? It is too late! You cannot fool me, not with sweet words, not with anything, so you may as well keep your flatteries, because one, I do not believe them, and two, even if I did believe them, I would not give a damn about them! And why the hell are you getting dressed?"

He stood up on their flat-topped rock to pull on his breeches, and replied in a tired and grouchy voice, "We might be found… someday, and I do not know about you, Captain Roland, but _I_ would like to be a dignified corpse."

Emily snorted and began dressing herself.

o

It was getting dark outside, and they had been standing in the water for what felt like hours. Emily had long lost track of time, she had even lost her sense of temperature, as everything felt cold. So, so very cold that she almost did not even feel it any more.

Somewhere on the edge of her conscious she noticed that someone was holding her, trying to rub her limbs in the futile hope of keeping her warm, and when she squinted up, she spotted a deadly pale face with lips turned blue and had no doubt she must look just as much of a fright as he did. But he at least was still moving, rubbing her back, her arms, his breath still warm on her cheek… she could not move any more.

He whispered in her ear, although his voice felt as though coming from a distance, "Forgive me, Emily… forgive me for everything, I beg you," but she could not respond even if she wanted to, and she was not sure she really wanted to.

Then there was another voice, coming from somewhere else – outside, perhaps? – and he stiffened next to her, then began shouting something along the lines 'We are here, down here!', but for her his yells felt like coming from a great distance too.

Dragons roared somewhere, two different roars, and both highly familiar. _My Excidium_, she thought with a numbed mind, and Laurence next to her – or perhaps very far from her? – yelled, 'You cannot do that, if you remove the stones the ceiling will collapse,' then a short while later once again, 'All right, do it, it is better than drowning and freezing to death', and one of the roaring voices replied, 'I will try to remove the collapsed stones with one swipe while Excidium reaches in to catch you both… yes, yes, we will try to be very, very quick… never fear, Laurence, we will not let you die!'

Emily did not know what was happening around her, her mind had almost completely given up, all it registered was the heavy slapping of the waves, then something big and strong encircled her around the waist, and finally, something hard hit her on the head, and the world tumbled into darkness.

oOo

**A/N:** I have made a little illustration of L/E in the cave, you can find it by clicking on the link at the end of my ffnet bio. And don't worry, the picture is perfectly "worksafe", nothing naughty. ;)

**Reviews, anyone?** *nudge nudge wink wink*


	8. In God's Hands

**A/N:** sorry about the long wait, people, but I hope you have meanwhile enjoyed my two recently posted one-shots. :)

_Nimbus Llewelyn_ (since I can't ask you in any other way): I have googled this Dragon Book you mentioned, but didn't find it.

**Chapter 8**

**In God's Hands**

"Doctor! Get a doctor!" Laurence shouted from Excidium's claws before they even touched down on the clearing in front of the barracks.

As soon as the dragon put them down, Laurence gathered the unconscious Emily in his arms, and with shaky steps, strode towards the building.

"Laurence, you need a doctor too," Temeraire called after him anxiously, but he tried not to pay attention to his own needs, to his chattering teeth, to the unusual stiffness in his limbs, he was determined to get Emily to a physician first.

Barely had he taken a few steps towards the barracks when a whole crowd gathered around them, shouting 'What happened?' 'Is she dead?' 'Why are you dripping?', but Laurence tried to shut his ears to all the questions and even managed it until a small, boyish voice chimed in, "What happened to Emily?"

Laurence looked down, over Emily's blood-covered head, and his eyes met Jason's. "She is… hurt," was all he managed to say, his voice raspier than ever, as though the water had frozen his vocal cords… or probably it was not even the water, but his anxiety over the possibility of seeing her die now that they had been saved. He could not bear the thought of losing her now, after all that happened…

"Did _you _hurt her?" the little boy asked, shakily but defiantly, making Laurence's heart sink even lower. He shook his head and said, "It was an accident."

Someone must have run for one of the covert's physicians, because he appeared, practically ran towards them, and soon Laurence was even more tightly surrounded by people and forced to hand over Emily so she could be carried into her room. Only when he was no longer burdened by her weight did he realise that he could barely support his own, and was not sure he would have been able to carry her all the way down the corridors, up the stairs... His knees went weak all of a sudden and if Berkley and Granby had not offered him aid from either side, he would have unceremoniously collapsed in the middle of the crowd.

"You look a fright, we will find another doctor for you," Granby said.

"I do not need a doctor," Laurence muttered through chattering teeth. "All I need is dry clothes… a warm bed… and grog. Lots of it. Harcourt," he turned to the left where he had spotted a blur of red hair he supposed to be hers, "will you look after Jason for a while? He must be shaken…"

"Of course," the woman replied from the edge of his conscious and despite his will, Laurence fainted into his friends' arms.

o

He awoke after nightfall, dressed in dry clothes and tucked under half a dozen blankets, with a bottle of grog standing on his bedside table, quite a bit of it missing already; he must have been forced to swallow some of it even while he had been unconscious – or his helpers, whoever had changed his clothes, had also helped themselves to the liquor. With a wavering hand, he reached out for the bottle and took a swig, not even bothering to use the glass beside it. Once he felt heartened enough by the drink, he pulled on his boots, rose to his feet, and with trembling legs, walked to the door.

He was surprised to find Granby, Berkley and Harcourt outside, talking in hushed voices.

"What the hell are ya doing up?" Berkley grunted at him.

"I need to see Emily."

"You need to stay in bed," Catherine said firmly. "You still look like a walking corpse."

"I feel well enough… but how is she?" Laurence pressed. "And where is Jason?"

"He's in my room, sleeping, I think," Catherine replied uneasily. "He was very upset, of course, I could barely put him to sleep…"

"And Emily?" Laurence insisted, leaning against the wall, his legs still felt too weak to support him.

Granby shook his head. "She's not well, I'm afraid. Severe concussion and hypothermia. What the heck were you two doing, eh?"

Laurence felt his cheeks flush and was for once grateful for the dim light of the torches lit at intervals on the corridor walls – they might not notice his blush. "It was an accident," he said. "The cliffs at the seaside collapsed upon us, closing us in a tunnel and the tide came in. We were half frozen when Temeraire and Excidium arrived… and when they tried to make our way free, they managed to collapse even more of the tunnel. One of the rocks… hit Emily on the head. I think another caught me on the shoulder," he rubbed it, it felt quite sore, "but… it is nothing. I must go to her now."

"You are not going anywhere," Berkley replied in an almost menacing tone, "only back to your bed." At this, Laurence sneezed. "See, you've got yourself a nice cold, so back to your bed, you hear me? But… before you go… do tell us, how on earth did half the cliffs of Dover tumble upon you just like that?"

Laurence blew his nose. "It was… another accident. We were… quarrelling. And she threatened me with a pistol… and fired, although not at me… she must have hit the cliffs, or probably only the sound of the shot made the whole thing come down… I do not know."

"You were quarrelling?" Granby gave him a curious look. "Over the boy, right?"

"Right," Laurence nodded, hugging himself – he still felt cold. "I was so… so mad at her! She lied to Jason about me! It is all right she told him I was a traitor, as that is the truth, but even you know it is _not _true that I do not love England, and she told him just that! And…" his voice trailed off, "she also told him that I killed Jane."

"Oh, bugger," Catherine commented. "That was below the belt. I know she is upset about your getting Jane pregnant, but you cannot be blamed for her death! Why, if I had died when giving birth, and you know I nearly did, would Tom be my murderer? Oh, come on… do not even listen to her, Laurence."

"But I cannot help it, Harcourt," he shook his head, "every time I look at Jason and I know he is my son and I cannot even talk to him… it is killing me inside."

"So… you didn't kill my mother?" a vague little voice chimed in from around the corner, and the small figure of Jason stepped out of the shadows, wearing only his underwear and a pair of female slippers too big for him – he must have borrowed them from Catherine.

"Jason, you should be in bed!" the woman gently scolded him.

"I couldn't sleep, sorry," the little boy shook his head and walked closer to them, his blue eyes wide as he stared at the dumbfounded Laurence. "Did you or did you not kill my mother… sir?"

"I… I did not," was all Laurence managed to utter.

"And what about not loving England?" the child asked, his voice clear and innocent.

Laurence heaved a sigh. "I do love England, Jason. More than you would imagine."

"Then why did Emily lie to me?"

Laurence crouched down to be at eye-level with his son. "Sometimes, when you are angry, you do things you later regret. I am sure she too will regret this later… she was angry with me."

"But why?"

"It is a long story, Jason. I will tell you some day."

The little boy pursed his lips, looking very unsatisfied with the answer. "Why not now? Because I'm too young to understand? Is this like that mating thing?"

Laurence swallowed the lump in his throat and felt himself blush once again. "Yes, Jason. Exactly like that."

"Oh, all right. Sir…" the child gave him a searching look, "if I'm your son, then are you my father?"

Laurence felt his throat close – of course the boy must have heard that part as well if he had been eavesdropping around the corner for a while, as apparently he had been. "Yes, Jason," he said. "I am."

"Then may I call you father… or papa?"

Laurence felt tears well up in his eyes and sniffed, whether due to the tears or to his cold, he did not know. "Whichever you prefer, Jason. You would make me very happy if you did… but only if there is no one else around."

"But," the child looked up, "there is Captain Berkley, Captain Harcourt and Captain Granby here now."

"Yes, but they all know you are my son… but not everyone knows, and I am not sure if your sister would be happy to hear you calling me father or papa in front of everyone else."

"This is… confusing," Jason sighed. "But very well, papa, I shan't call you that if others are around. Can we go and look at Emily now? Please?"

"Yes, by all means," Laurence took the boy by the hand, and when the others opened their mouths to protest, he replied over his shoulder, "pray do not worry about my health, my son will take care of me."

oOo

"She's going to be all right, isn't she?" Jason whispered as they stood by Emily's bed.

"I have done everything in my power, but even like this… I am not sanguine of a quick recovery," the doctor replied with a sullen expression. "Her head injury could render her unconscious for a week or even longer… I have sent for a nurse who will take care of her, try to force some food and drink into her, even sleep here with her."

"But it's always me who sleeps here with her!" Jason objected. "Where will I sleep then?"

"You will sleep in Catherine's room tonight, but after that, you can sleep in mine if you like," Laurence replied.

"In your room, sir?" the doctor arched an eyebrow at him – he could not have met Laurence before, he was fairly new to the covert, Laurence had definitely not seen him here before the treason. "Would it not be better if a woman…?"

"No, I want _him_!" Jason said, grabbing the sleeve of Laurence's cloak. "I want you, pa… sir."

For the second time that evening and for the umpteenth time that day, Laurence felt his throat close with emotion. "Of course you can have me. Now, be a good boy and wait for me outside, will you? I will join you in a minute."

"All right," Jason said, but before he left, he stepped to the bed, and stood on his tiptoes to press a kiss on Emily's cheek.

Once the door closed behind the child, Laurence turned to the doctor. "Sir, you might not know me, but since we are very likely to meet quite often in the near future, I consider it my duty to dissipate any kind of misunderstanding or suspicion. I am Jason's father."

"Oh," the doctor said. "I see. Then, of course, it is only natural you take care of him…"

"Yes, that is what I thought too," Laurence nodded. "And I hope I can count on your discretion."

"Do you think you can keep it a secret for long?" the other man gave him a dubious glance.

"Not really, and half the covert knows already, but I still will not go shouting it from the rooftops," Laurence replied tiredly. "When does the nurse arrive, do you know?"

"In the morning, I believe. Until then, I am staying with the patient."

"Thank you, doctor. Thank you very much."

o

After having taken Jason back to Harcourt's room, Laurence found he could not fall asleep, despite his overwhelming fatigue. So, with the remainder of his grog and a warm blanket he headed for Temeraire's clearing.

The stars were merrily twinkling in the sky, the night was balmy if a little chilly, and Laurence's thoughts were sluggish, his memories of the past day hazy, save for the ones about holding Emily in his arms. A shiver ran down his spine when he recalled the softness of her skin, the little mewling sounds she had made, like a kitty, a tamer version of her mother's wildcat behaviour. Tamer, but just barely, he admitted with a bashful grin – his back still prickled a bit.

"Can't sleep?" a voice called out to him in the night, and even in the darkness, Laurence knew it to be Granby. He stopped in his stride and waited for the other captain to reach him.

"No, not really. But what are you still doing here? Are you not sleeping in your house in Dover, with your family?"

"I usually do, but Iskierka was a little agitated today, so I decided to stay in the covert."

"Even more agitated than usual?" Laurence bit back a chuckle.

"Yes," Granby stepped closer to him so that now not only his silhouette was visible but even his features in the meagre light of lanterns on the trees. "Must have something to do with Temeraire and the mating. She seems somehow… forlorn."

"Or probably _love_lorn?" Laurence suggested.

"I don't know," Granby shook his head with a laugh. "But talking about the lovelorn… er… pray forgive me for asking, but… well, it was Berkley and me who got you out of your soaked clothes and into dry ones, and while he worked at the other end, removing your boots and breeches, I changed your shirt and… I could not help but notice those funny scratches on your back. I'm not talking about the flogging, these ones seemed new. What the hell happened to you, man?"

Laurence's eyes widened – he had not thought of that before. Of course whoever had undressed him must have noticed… He looked away, all the blood running to his cheeks. "The rocks. The tunnel's inner walls were kind of jagged…"

"Aha, so the rocks are capable of making four-five perfectly parallel scratches… and you removed your shirt in order to expose your back to the rocks… clever," Granby smirked.

Laurence sighed, hiding his face in his palm. "If you are expecting me to admit that Emily and I made mad, passionate love when we thought we were going to die, then you have it. We did. But you will oblige me by not bringing up the subject, ever again."

"You can count on my discretion," Granby chuckled. "So, apparently she does not hate you that much…"

"Oh, be assured that she does," Laurence grunted, "and I dare not imagine her reaction when she wakes up… if she hated me before, she will hate me a hundred times more after this."

"Or probably she will _love _you."

"Of course," Laurence snorted. "She will _love_ to kill me."

"So, if I understand it well, it were more preferable to you if she did not wake up for a long time… or not at all?"

"What?" Laurence gasped. "No, of course not! She has to wake up! For… Jason's sake." He realised quite uneasily that he was afraid of her waking up, but much, much more afraid of her never waking up.

"_Only_ for Jason's sake?" the younger captain asked challengingly.

Laurence continued walking. "If you will pardon me… I am visiting Temeraire. Would you be so kind and inform Excidium of Roland's condition?"

"Of course."

As Laurence walked away, he caught his friend muttering, "You and the Roland women…"

o

"Laurence, are you well?" Temeraire greeted him in a worried voice.

"I am fine, my dear," the man pressed his cheek to the dragon's muzzle, his voice sounding very tired. "You did well today. Without you, we would have died. How on earth did you find us?"

"I gathered information from Chenery then from Excidium. But pray tell, how is Emily?"

"Not well, I am afraid. She is still unconscious."

"Hmm. Serves her right," Temeraire said contentedly.

"But Temeraire!"

"Do not 'but Temeraire!' me, Laurence, she deserves it, after all she has not done anything but torment you ever since we returned…"

Laurence suppressed a sigh. "Anyway, I sent Granby to Excidium to inform him of her condition."

"That was very thoughtful of you… I know _I _would not have been able to stand being kept in the dark about _your_ condition… it has been a torture even to wait so far… why have you not come earlier?"

"I am sorry, my dear. I was out cold for hours."

Temeraire curled around his captain, deciding not to interrogate him any longer – the poor man looked and sounded worn enough to deserve a good night's sleep. He would make his inquiries in the morning instead. "Will you spend the night here with me?"

"That is why I have brought the blanket," Laurence replied gently, nestling himself in the crook of the dragon's foreleg. "Pray keep me warm, I am still a bit cold. And Temeraire…"

"Yes, Laurence?"

"Thank you. Thank you so much…"

oOo

"I hope you are feeling better," Admiral Little told Laurence the next morning, "and up to work. If not, then it is certainly understandable…"

"No, Admiral, I mean, yes. I feel up to work, thank you," Laurence replied, although his legs still felt a bit shaky as he stood before the admiral's desk and he had an annoyingly runny nose.

"Excellent, excellent… would you like tea?"

"No, thank you, I expect to have some at breakfast."

"Ah, yes, well, about that… I am sorry to have dragged you here _before _breakfast... one would say that having a conversation with your admiral at six in the morning at a time of peace is… how to put it… queer, but I felt the necessity of having an undisturbed conversation with you. Sit down, please."

"Thank you, Admiral." Laurence took a place in the slightly uncomfortable chair facing the desk. "I expect you wish to hear about the accident."

"A traitor, a martyr, a father, and now a mind-reader as well?" Little gave him a bemused look. "Never mind. Yes, the accident. I know it happened off duty, but it happened to one of our formation leaders and one of our… almost-captains," he said, his eyes involuntarily – or perhaps not quite involuntarily – wandering to the shoulder of Laurence's cloak, devoid of any golden bars, "therefore I feel I have a right to demand an explanation."

Laurence had been expecting this, and for a moment it had occurred to him to lie in order to defend Emily – after all, firing a gun that one believes to be unloaded is a tell-tale sign of incompetence and he did not wish to discredit her – but thought better of it. He could not imagine what she would tell about the whole incident when she came around – _if_ she came around at all, he shuddered – but he hoped she would not lie, and if their reports tallied, no one would get into trouble.

Yes, her 'incompetence' might be frowned upon, even become a subject of mockery, but it was still better than lying in her favour when his lie might be revealed if she happened to tell the truth about the accident. Laurence had discredited himself enough times to know he could not afford another attempt at deceiving his superiors and he could only hope Emily would give Little the same report as he was about to give.

"I had to discuss something with Captain Roland," he began, "so I followed her to the seaside where we got into an unfortunate debate…"

"A debate? Over the child, I presume?" Little arched a black eyebrow at him.

Laurence nodded grimly. "There is no use euphemising it, we were shouting at each other, and she got so furious she threatened me with a pistol… with a pistol she believed to be unloaded. Then, just to mock me, she fired the gun, and it turned out to be not unloaded at all… and collapsed the cliffs upon us. I managed to push her into the shelter of the tunnel-mouth, but when the stones stopped raining on us, we saw that we were trapped in the tunnel. The tide arrived, but luckily so did Temeraire and Excidium… and we were saved. I believe there is no more to be said about the incident."

"There _is_ one more thing to be said about it," Little replied. "Excidium is unwilling to fly under his first or second lieutenant, therefore the formation is lacking a leader dragon. Since Temeraire is the most… significant beast of the remaining six, I want you to be formation leader until Roland gets better."

Laurence stiffened in his seat. "Sir…"

"No, do not interrupt," Little held up a hand, "this is only a temporary arrangement, and you are only temporarily getting a bigger crew and three golden bars, for formality's sake, so do not even get used to the idea of keeping them."

"I would never have been so presumptuous," Laurence said. "I know my place, Admiral. I am a convicted traitor bound to return to the penal colony, I could never forget that. But I thank you for your… trust, however temporary it is."

Little gave him a curt nod and a parchment with his orders, thankfully not drenched in tea this time. "And what of the child?" he asked after the newly appointed formation leader had risen to his feet to leave.

"I would like to arrange for his bed to be delivered into my room some time today. He spent the previous night in Harcourt's room, but I would like him to sleep in my room from now on… until Captain Roland gets better, of course. I hope it is not against regulations…"

Little gave him an aristocratic grimace. "Even if it were, could I keep you from your son, Laurence?"

"No, sir," Laurence managed a small smile. "You could not."

oOo

It was still an hour before breakfast time when Temeraire spotted Laurence returning. He was limping, his face was still paler than usual and he held his left arm in a strange angle as though it were causing him pain – something Temeraire had not noticed the previous night.

"Are you feeling better?" Temeraire asked, gently nuzzling his captain.

"Yes, my dear, never fear for me," the man patted the dragon's muzzle. "I am going to survive… thanks to you and Excidium."

"Well, more thanks to _me_, as _he_ did not really want to save you," Temeraire said grouchily. "He thinks you are to blame for Jane's death, but I told him it was nonsense…"

"It is not exactly nonsense," Laurence sighed, sinking down into the crook of Temeraire's foreleg. "I did not kill her directly, but indirectly… I might have, and people tend to look at it like that… like Emily does." For a long moment he remained silent, then carried on, "She told Jason I killed his mother and Jason told me he hated me."

"What?" Temeraire gasped, outraged.

"Calm down, my dear," Laurence patted the dragon's foreleg. "Jason and I have talked about it since, and he accepted that I did not kill Jane. He knows I am his father."

"Oh. That is wonderful, is it not?"

A small, vague smile graced Laurence's lips. "Yes, it is. You have no idea what I felt when he first called me 'papa'… it is indescribable, Temeraire… I have never been so happy and so sad at the same time."

"Sad? By why would you be sad about it?"

"Because I have missed five years of his life… and now that we have found each other… we will be forced apart again. Not tomorrow, not in a week, but… soon."

"Perhaps… not _so_ soon," Temeraire said gently.

"What do you mean?" his captain gave him a curious, almost suspicious look.

Temeraire stifled an urge to tell him about his devious little plan of imitating the mating with Iskierka, and only replied, "The future is not put down in a book… it is always in motion, is it not? And we cannot know what it has in store for us."

"You are right. We cannot know that," Laurence replied, his eyes distant. "Nor can we know what our actions entail… but I think it is better not to know, for if we knew, we would be more often than not running away from our future, screaming."

"I cannot imagine you screaming, Laurence," Temeraire chuckled, curling contentedly around his captain. After so much worrying he had had to go through the previous day, he now felt the world was all right, almost perfect. If only there was no such sadness in his companion's eyes… "Laurence… has something else happened? Something that is bothering you?"

"Besides the fact that Emily nearly shot me and collapsed a cliff wall on us and is now lying unconscious and we cannot be sure if she ever wakes up?" Laurence asked bitterly.

"She nearly _shot_ you?"

"She thought the gun was unloaded. She merely wanted to threaten me."

"Hmm. It is still not nice threatening people with guns."

"No," Laurence sighed, leaning against Temeraire's side and closing his eyes, "it is not."

"You are still very tired, are you not?"

"Uh-huh," Laurence murmured. "Wake me up at breakfast time, will you?"

Temeraire murmured his assent, gently like a cat purring, and bent his head closer to his captain, hoping that his warm breath would keep Laurence warm also. As he leaned closer, he spotted something on his captain's cloak – something he had not seen there for almost ten years: golden bars. And not only two, but three!

"Laurence, oh Laurence, you have been made formation leader!" he said enthusiastically.

"What would you say if I said I am just borrowing the cloak from Harcourt?" the man mumbled, his eyes shut, but an impish smile on his face.

"You cannot borrow her coat, she is much smaller than you are! You _have been__ promoted_!"

"Only temporarily," Laurence opened one eye and squinted at him from under a half-closed eyelid. "Until Emily gets better."

"But Laurence… what if she… does not… get better? Will they keep us here for ever or appoint someone else instead of you?"

When Laurence replied, his voice was barely louder than a whisper, a murmur of a person already half asleep, "I do not even want to consider that possibility."

oOo

"Making a traitor our formation leader, what a disgrace," Captain Hawthorn muttered under his breath as Laurence had announced the Admiral's orders.

"Shut it or I will give you disgrace in the form of a black eye," Salyer, the captain of the Chequered-Nettle Ivy murmured back. He was the youngest of the captains on the formation, and Laurence found himself wondering why he was defending him: Laurence himself had once given this young man ten strokes with a switch… if he were anything like Dunne or Hackley, Salyer would find it a disgrace to serve under him again.

"No fighting within the Corps, gentlemen," he gave the two captains a dark look.

"Hah, as though _you_ respected the Corps rules so much, _Captain_," Hawthorn replied, putting the emphasis on the 'captain' part.

"That will do," Laurence said. "I am not discussing matters of the past with any of you, I have been made your commanding officer to worry about your future, so you will oblige me by keeping your mouth shut when you are not asked, _Captain_. Any more objections?" he looked around, and the other captains and most of their crews averted their eyes. "Good. Today we are going to be patrolling between Lydd and Bexhill. All aloft, if you please."

oOo

It had begun raining around noon, and by the time they arrived back at the covert, they were drenched and Laurence was not the only one sneezing. He quickly changed into dry clothes, thankful that his rain-soaked things had not been nearly as cold as the seawater the previous day, and went to look for Jason.

As the weather was unfavourable for outdoor ball games, he found the boy sitting in a corner of the dining room, leafing through a book.

"I asked Captain Harcourt if she had any books with pictures and she lent me this one," Jason announced. "You said books were interesting and they are indeed. If only I understood what is written under the pictures…"

"You would, if you learned to read… when exactly do they start to give the cadets reading lessons here? I fear I do not know, which once again shows my lack of aviator-upbringing…"

"You weren't brought up as an aviator, pa… sir?" Jason bit back the 'papa' part just in time when a lieutenant walked by.

"No, Jason. Until I turned twelve, I lived with my parents in a nice big house called Wollaton Hall."

"Can I see that house some day?"

"I fear not," Laurence shook his head, guilt biting at his heart with invisible teeth. How could he show his son the country house of his family? He was a traitor, unwelcome at home, and his son was natural-born, not even called a Laurence, thus doubly denied entrance to Wollaton Hall.

"Why not? Your parents are my grandparents, aren't they?" the child leaned closer not to be overheard.

"Yes, Jason, but they do not know about your existence… and my father is not a pleasant man at all… if he is still alive. I am not sure he is. I only hope… that my mother is alive still."

"How come you don't know?" the boy gave him an innocent-curious look.

"I have been away in a far-far away land and I have not been in touch with her… but I wrote to her as soon as I arrived back, and I hope to hear from her soon."

"Will you introduce me to her?"

Laurence put a hand on Jason's shoulder. "I would love to. But… back to our story about why I did not grow up as an aviator…"

Jason listened with his mouth hanging open, the sea battles fascinating him, especially the one in which Laurence had won the _Amitiè _with Temeraire's egg in the hold.

"…and Temeraire loved books so much that his enthusiasm had infected me also, I have grown fond of books, and I hope you will too."

"But I'm not going to learn to read for another two years," Jason pouted. "Cadets only get their first reading lessons when they get here, at age seven."

"Well… we could start our reading lessons right tomorrow. What do you say?"

Jason presented his father with a delighted grin. "I'd love to! Then I could go and read out to Emily while she is sick… really, can we go and see her? Can we? I tried to see her in the morning but the nurse wouldn't let me in… such a stupid fat hag!"

"Jason, it is not nice to talk about a lady like that…" Laurence replied, amused, and upon arriving to Emily's room, he established that the nurse was not in the least a fat hag, merely a slightly plump young woman with ample bosom, lots of freckles and an ever-smiling face.

"I hope Jason has not caused you any trouble," Laurence told the woman who blushed, giggled and made a rather awkward curtsey, showing that she must have spent her childhood in stables milking cows rather than in a noble court receiving proper education.

"Not at all, Captain, not at all," she waved, "the name is Tilly, by the way. Tilda, but everyone calls me Tilly."

"Pleased to meet you, Miss…" Laurence began, refusing to call a woman he had just met by her Christian name.

"Grey, sir."

"Well, Miss Grey, Jason and I are here to enquire about Captain Roland's condition."

"Oh, well… I fear I can't tell you much, she's been like that since morning, not moving an inch, not batting an eyelid… I managed to force some water into her, but it ain't easy, tryin' to make an unconscious person to drink… She seems to have developed a bit of a temperature too, and coughs a bit, but does not awaken, weird!"

Laurence resisted the urge to roll his eyes – Tilda Grey apparently was far from a professional nurse, but perhaps she was the only one from Dover daring to enter the covert.

oOo

Laurence did not manage to find time for visiting Excidium before nightfall, but since more than a whole day had passed since the dragons had saved them, he knew he could not delay the visit any longer.

Excidium gave him a curious look as he spotted him approaching. "How is Emily?" he enquired at once.

"The same, I am afraid. Excidium… I would like to thank you for joining Temeraire to save us."

"I merely joined him to save _Emily_," the dragon replied grouchily. "I would never have gone to save _you_."

"Very kind," Laurence bent his head jerkily, "still, I am grateful."

The dragon snorted and looked away, indicating he regarded the discussion finished. When Laurence turned away to leave, however, he called after him, "I hope you have not harmed my Emily in any way."

Laurence gave the dragon a tired look. "I can assure you, I have done nothing to her she did not like… or that she did not ask for."

"What do you mean by that?" came the confused question.

"I suggest you ask _her_ once she wakes up. Good night, Excidium."

oOo

"I'm sure she's going to be better today," Jason said the following day as they walked towards Emily's room. "Perhaps I can show her that I can already read letters 'a', 'b' and 'c'?"

"Perhaps, Jason," Laurence replied, though he was not nearly as sanguine as his son was of Emily's quick recovery, and he was even more disheartened to find the doctor by the bed, bending over the unconscious woman with a grim expression.

"How is she?" Laurence asked, dread spreading from the pit of his stomach, engulfing his whole body.

"She has a fever and she is coughing. Badly, as you can hear. A wonder she does not awaken from those coughs, but the head injury prevents that…"

"The diagnosis?" Laurence knitted his eyebrows, feeling that his hand holding Jason's had got slippery with sweat.

The doctor did not beat around the bush. "I fear she has developed pneumonia."

"What is new… mania?" Jason asked.

Laurence gave the doctor a meaningful glance, then turned to his son. "Will you step outside for a moment, Jason? I will be right with you. Miss Grey will go with you."

The child frowned, but nodded. "All right, pa… sir. But I don't want Miss Grey…"

Tilda giggled and took the child by the hand, who reluctantly let her steer him out.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Laurence turned to the doctor. "Are you sure, sir? Pneumonia?"

"Quite," the other man nodded. "Nine days. In nine days we will find out if she will survive… the ninth day is always the crisis… if she survives that, she will very likely live. Until then… she is in God's hands."

Laurence nodded mutely, his eyes slipping to Emily's face – her bandaged forehead, her cheeks rosy with fever… just two days ago those cheeks had been equally rosy, only with passion, not with fever…

If she died, he knew he would never forgive himself. True, it had been her who had carelessly fired the gun, it had also been her who had induced him to go to her for a quarrel, but it had been _him_ who had started it all… by impregnating poor Jane.

If Emily died too, he would not be able to convince himself that he had _not _killed her. He knew he would not.

_O God, save her…_

oOo

**A/N:** reviews, as always, are highly appreciated.


	9. The Power of Prayer

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone for the reviews on chapter 8! I was starting to fear you guys didn't like this story because it was much darker than my other ones, but now I'm beginning to hope again – huge thanks for that! :)

**Chapter 9**

**The Power of Prayer**

"You know they are growing to like you, Captain?" Salyer mumbled between two bites of his sandwich. They were sitting under a tree, having lunch, trying not to pay attention to the ever-darkening sky. It seemed that after the short April heat wave the weather was going to the other extreme and flooding the countryside with torrents of rain. That day it had not rained yet, but the sky had turned a deep shade of grey and the wind blew in a way that suggested a horrible storm was coming. Not that they could have done anything about it, they were too far from any covert to seek shelter and the crews of the six dragons could only hope that the wings of their beasts would offer some protection against the forces of nature.

"Growing to like me?" Laurence gave his one-time officer a curious look. "What makes you think so?"

"Oh, you can't have failed to notice the relief on their faces when you told them yesterday that the dragons were allowed to help dig their own necessaries if they wanted to… You have no idea how much everyone hated the practice of pit-digging… and of course Roland, who made up this whole idiocy in the first place, would not take part in it, ever. Honestly, sometimes you would think that woman is punishing the whole world for some unknown offence…"

Laurence felt guilt compress his gullet and settle on his chest heavily. He knew Emily had been punishing the entire world because of _him_.

"So anyway, the crews are more than grateful for the new practice you have introduced," Salyer continued with his mouth full.

"Or perhaps you have just introduced it because _you_ did not feel like digging," Captain Hawthorn grunted as he walked past them.

"Or perhaps you are forgetting you are talking to your superior," Laurence replied coolly.

"Or perhaps I am forgetting I am talking to a traitor," Hawthorn hissed.

Salyer would have jumped to his feet if Laurence had not held him back. "You will oblige me by staying put, Captain Salyer. No fighting in the Corps, remember?"

Hawthorn shot them a dark glance and strode off, climbing on his Yellow-Reaper Oberon, and taking him for a flight, to be as far from the other captains, especially Laurence, as possible.

"Good riddance," Salyer opined. "He would never have dared talk back to Roland like that, but to you… well, that is a different matter. Why did you not put him right?"

"Because he has already been put right – he just does not know that yet. I made a quick scan of the faces of the others while Hawthorn was addressing me, and their contempt was obvious. This contempt was not directed at me, though. I am surprised by it, but pleasantly."

"I would not be surprised in your place," Salyer shook his head. "You don't know that, Laurence, but many thought you a holy martyr after your so-called treason. They would not say it aloud, of course, but somewhere… deep down… they respected you and what you had done. Because they all loved their dragons and had seen them sick and dying… and only you had the courage to take a step that needed to be taken."

"There were times when I was not in the least sure that step really needed to be taken," Laurence sighed. "But in the end, I felt my conscience was clear."

"Your conscience was always clear, Captain," Salyer said. "I don't remember a single time you did something that was not justified. You know, I hated you for a short time after you demoted me and gave me those strokes in Istanbul… but it saved me in many ways. It taught me discipline, and I am for ever grateful for that."

Laurence raised an eyebrow at the young man. "Well, I must admit I never imagined to hear anything like that from anyone…"

"I can imagine that… As for Hawthorn, do not even listen to him. He's dim-witted, short-sighted and well…" Salyer leaned closer to almost whisper into Laurence's ear, "they say he's almost illiterate. Reading a letter takes him _hours_."

Temeraire, who must have heard Salyer's words even despite their hushed quality, chimed in, "Speaking of reading, you have not read out anything to me for ages, Laurence. Can you do it now? We still have about fifteen minutes before the lunch break is over…"

"All right, I have brought with me _Sense and Sensibility_," Laurence replied, knowing his dragon had recently taken a liking to anything written by Jane Austen. He quickly climbed up Temeraire's harness to access the book he had wrapped in oilcloth and fixed onto the harness itself. He was just about to clamber down on the dragon's side when there was an almighty flash of lightning and a screech – the lightning had whipped past Oberon by barely a few metres, scaring the young dragon enough to make him perform an involuntary corkscrew. Hawthorn, who must not have been tied in properly, was shaken off him and now fell out of the sky like a rag doll.

"Temeraire!" Laurence dropped _Sense and Sensibility_ into the mud, and his dragon, understanding him from half-words, shot off towards the falling captain while Oberon seemed too shaken to realise what had happened and unable to act.

Laurence did not remember Temeraire ever flying at such a break-neck speed – he was not tied in either, as he had only climbed on Temeraire's back for the book, but now he managed to slip one of his legs into the harness and reached out as Hawthorn tumbled towards them from above. Laurence could not trust Temeraire to catch the unfortunate captain; at this speed the dragon might not be able to concentrate on both darting towards the falling man _and _catching him gently enough not to crush him by accident.

"Got you!" Laurence caught Hawthorn's hand, and in that very instant felt his already injured shoulder flare up with pain – pain so unbearable he nearly let go of the other man. Squeezing his eyes shut, he held onto Hawthorn, and a mere few seconds later they touched down on the ground, but those few seconds had felt like hours for him. By the time both captains unceremoniously rolled down from Temeraire's back into the mud, Laurence had nearly passed out.

For a long moment he barely sensed what was happening around him and barely managed to understand the worried voices, then he forced his eyes open and saw Ivy's surgeon, a balding little man bend over him. "No worries…" he managed to mumble, "I think my shoulder got dislocated… nothing too bad, though…"

"Of course, because Hawthorn is so fat," someone chimed in, "no wonder his weight dislocated Laurence's shoulder…"

The doctor seemed relatively cool as he said, "Naturally we will have to put that shoulder back in place."

Panting, Laurence looked around, searching for someone from his own crew. "Mr. Allen… get me a stick to bite on, if you please…"

When the doctor removed Laurence's cloak and wanted to remove his shirt too, Laurence instinctively reached out with his uninjured arm and stopped him. "The shirt stays on."

The doctor gave him a curious look.

"Surely you can put my shoulder back in place with my shirt on?" Laurence challenged. "I am freezing."

The dragon surgeon shrugged and placed the stick offered by Allen into Laurence's mouth. The last thing Laurence heard before the doctor yanked his shoulder back into place, sending him into a faint, were the disappointed words of a female officer: "Oh, I really do not understand why he insists on keeping that shirt on… I would have loved to see those remarkable muscles again…"

o

He woke up to find himself tucked against Temeraire's side, the dragon's wings sheltering him from the rain. "How… how long have I been out?" Laurence muttered, feeling ashamed that he had fainted at all.

"Just half an hour or so," the dragon replied. "Are you feeling all right? Can you sit up?"

Laurence gingerly moved his left arm – it still hurt, but everything seemed to be in place. "Yes, my dear, I am sure I can." He rose to his feet and stepped out from the shelter of the wings. "Everyone all right?" he turned to the rest of the dragons and their crews, all soaked to the skin. "Is Hawthorn all right? And Oberon?"

"We are doing fine," Oberon replied in a small voice, hanging his head. He seemed very ashamed of himself for having been so scared and nearly causing his captain's death.

Hawthorn himself looked morose but inclined his head slightly in Laurence's direction; this was the most Laurence could expect from him under given circumstances, and it was still more of gratitude than Hawthorn would have shown anyone else.

The storm was still raging when they arrived back at the covert in the afternoon, and all Laurence longed for was a hot bath, but before he could have followed his crew towards the barracks, Temeraire asked him, "Why would you not let them remove your shirt?"

Laurence swallowed hard. "I…"

"There is a particular reason, is there not?" the dragon gave him a knowing look.

All the other dragons on the formation had dispersed by now, seeking shelter in their pavilions or under trees, and Laurence suspected that the thunderclaps would mute his words enough for no else but Temeraire to hear. "I…" he reddened, "I did not want them to see my back."

"Why not? They saw it the other day… it is not like you should be ashamed of the marks of the flogging, everyone knows you got those in Africa and bore them heroically."

"I am… not talking about those marks," Laurence hugged himself against the cold – or perhaps against his own shame? "I have… new ones… and I did not want them to see and ask questions…" He nervously ran a hand across his greying blond hair, contemplating whether he should stop now and keep it a secret from Temeraire, but he found he could not lie to his dragon, not to mention that Temeraire would not leave him alone until he confessed everything. "Granby… already saw them and it was embarrassing enough to tell _him_… I do not want anyone else to know what Emily did to me."

"Why?" Temeraire's ruff flared. "What did she do to you? Did she hurt you?"

"Uh… not badly, she just… scratched my back," Laurence muttered under his breath, a wonder that his dragon managed to make out his words at all.

"Scratched your back… with your clothes on?" Temeraire asked, confused.

"My clothes… were not on all the time," the captain blushed an even deeper shade of red.

"And hers…? Were _her_ clothes on her all the time?"

Laurence shook his head, rain dripping liberally from his locks.

"But… what were you two doing undressed?"

Laurence groaned inwardly. "You know, my dear… humans have to… undress when they want to… er… engage in certain… activities." He did not remember if he had ever stammered so badly.

"What activities? Back-clawing? What fun is there in back-clawing?" the dragon gave him a questioning look.

"Nothing, I mean, it does not necessarily involve back-clawing, but if the parties get a bit carried away… why, surely you too got clawed at by Iskierka when you two were…?"

"…mating?" Understanding dawned on Temeraire.

Laurence nodded, his eyes downcast.

"Oh… so you and Emily… but I thought she loathed you."

"She does."

"But Laurence, I would never mate with a female dragon I loathed… and surely you would never mate with someone you loathed either… would you?"

"Of course I would not… I do not loathe Emily… although… I do not know what I actually feel for her."

"Why not?"

"Because it is too difficult," Laurence sighed. "As a child, she used to be like a daughter to me… I felt protective of her… and I cherished her a little more than I did the rest of my crew… I was even sorry to leave her in England when we had to return to Australia… and when we arrived at England a few days ago and I found out what had happened and how she hated me… I must admit she scared me a bit… but also… excited me. I have never been scared of a woman, Temeraire… it is simply…" he swallowed hard, "_arousing_. And in the tunnel, when we thought we were going to die… I almost felt I loved her… but I am no longer sure. I only know I could not bear the thought of her dying…"

"Why? _Is_ she dying?" Temeraire asked, worried.

Laurence hung his head. "I fear so. And I do not know how to tell Jason. He is too young to be exposed to something like this."

Temeraire gently nudged his captain with his muzzle. "Pray do not be sad, dear Laurence. I hate to see you sad. And you know what? If she mated with you, I am sure she does not hate you… so much."

Laurence snorted. "If only…" But he knew it was only wishful thinking. If she ever woke up, she would very likely hate him more than she had before.

"By the way… Iskierka never scratched me… but she scorched me a few times," Temeraire sighed. "Oh, such nice memories…"

"Why, does she not scorch you any more?" Laurence arched an eyebrow at his dragon.

"Uh…" Temeraire looked bashful for a moment, "she has become… tamer."

"Of course, and the Thames has started flowing backwards," Laurence remarked, not having the slightest idea why Temeraire had looked so uneasy.

oOo

"She is not doing well, is she?" Jason whispered, as if he were afraid that he would disturb his sister's sleep, although Laurence knew that Emily was not sleeping – she was still unconscious, for the third day since the accident.

They had sent Tilly to take a rest and were now left alone with the patient whose body was shaken by painful coughs from time to time – Laurence at least was sure those coughs would have been painful for her, had she been conscious.

"No, Jason, she is not doing well," he admitted, taking a place on Emily's right while the child flopped down on her left. "She is very ill."

"Can we… can we do something… anything for her?" Jason asked with trembling lips, reaching out to touch Emily's cheek. "She is burning."

There was a cloth on her forehead and Laurence suspected that Tilly had changed it on a regular basis, but apparently it had not helped much. "We can do only one thing for her, Jason," he replied. "We must pray."

"Pray?" the boy's eyes widened. "But I don't know how to pray…"

"You don't know…?" Laurence was taken aback. "You mean Emily never taught you…? Never even showed…?"

Jason shook his head. "I don't know anything about it… why do we do it at all?"

"We pray to God to help us, for He is the Almighty, our Creator, who gives us help when we ask Him for it."

"Does He? That is very nice of Him…" Jason said, though he did not look quite convinced.

Laurence heaved a sigh; this was not going to be easy. He had naturally known that aviators on the average were not very religious, at least those he had known were usually not and Jane in particular had been a complete atheist, but it had never occurred to him that his little son would be raised to be an atheist either. And Jason would _not_ be raised to be an atheist, if he, the father, had a say in it.

"Yes, Jason, God helps us if we pray to Him. Well then… I am going to show you how it is done. First… we kneel down." Laurence slipped onto the carpet and Jason imitated his moves on the opposite side of the bed. "Now we clasp our hands, like this… and we say our prayer. It can be a prayer with set words like the Lord's Prayer taught to us by Jesus Christ himself, or we can use our own words…"

"Who is Jesus Christ?" Jason wondered.

"I will tell you tomorrow," Laurence sent his son a half-smile, "and tomorrow we are going to learn the Lord's Prayer too… or at least start to learn it, for it is quite long. But tonight, we are just using our own words. What would _you_ like to tell God about Emily?"

Jason shrugged. "I think I would tell Him that she is not at all as evil as she seems to be, and that I love her but I wish she would let me stay up longer in the evenings and let me drink more hot chocolate because I love it only she says it makes you fat… and that I wish she would not yell at you, because I love you both and I don't want you two to be angry at each other… and of course I want her to get better, and… papa," he leaned a bit closer, as close as Emily's body lying between them would allow, and said confidentially, "may I tell God something else as well, that is not about Emily?"

"Yes, of course… what would that be?"

Jason made a grimace. "That I don't like kneeling. It is very uncon… uncof… not pleasant."

Laurence could not hold back his laughter, and reaching across the bed, gently ruffled the boy's hair. "I think He knows that, and I am sure He would not be offended if you only knelt for a short while then switched to sitting."

"Are you sure He would not be mad at me?"

"I am. The Lord is merciful," Laurence replied, but casting a sideways glance at Emily, he felt his throat close. _But is He merciful enough to save her?_

oOo

These days could have been the happiest days of Laurence's life, spending all his free time with his son, but Emily's illness left its mark on their mood and their reading sessions involuntarily turned into praying sessions whether they were by Emily's bedside or out on the grounds with Temeraire.

Jason it took four days to learn the Lord's Prayer by heart, while Temeraire learned it after Laurence had repeated it twice. Not that the dragon was much interested in religion, but his intellect, as always, required challenges and even learning prayers by heart was a good opportunity for him to show off. He once even recited the Lord's Prayer to Iskierka when Laurence took him to the female dragon's clearing for their daily mating, making Iskierka snort and say she did not understand all the fuss about this God when quite obviously the only god humans should believe in was Allah, or so she had heard in the harem. This once again led to an argument between the two dragons, making Jason confused about religion and Granby shake his head with barely suppressed mirth.

"But honestly, Laurence believes in _this_ God, and Laurence knows better," Temeraire said, "and even _your Granby_ believes in _this_ God, do you not, Granby?"

"Well… yes," the other man replied vaguely, rendering Iskierka sulky for several days, refusing to even mate with Temeraire, which, for some reason, Temeraire did not seem to mind at all.

Father and son usually finished their day by visiting Emily and either praying for her healing or speaking to her – at least Jason did the latter; Laurence did not feel comfortable speaking to Emily with his son or anyone else around. His feelings for the girl were jumbled and his conscience guilty enough to be unwilling to let anyone hear his thoughts voiced. He was beginning to think he was falling in love with her, that his feelings in the tunnel had not been just a trick of his mind, and with the ever-growing belief that he loved her, it was beginning to be harder and harder to see her so pale and feverish… to see her dying.

Day by day Emily's condition got worse as the doctor had foretold it would – she coughed more and more heavily and Tilly had to usher Laurence and Jason out more and more often so that she could wrap the patient's chest in cold, wet sheets to reduce her temperature.

On the seventh day after the accident the young nurse had a little bit of good news for them: around noon Emily had woken up, but only for a few minutes which Tilly had used for feeding her some porridge after a week of only forcing tea and water into her, but Emily had been dazed all along, her eyes open but glassy, she had clearly not known where she was and what was happening to her.

The next three days Laurence hoped in vain to catch her awake – according to Tilly, Emily awoke every day for a few minutes, but fell into a feverish, faint-like sleep shortly thereafter.

On the eve of the eleventh day after the accident, the ninth day of her pneumonia, Laurence decided to talk Jason out of visiting her, fearing that his little son would be too shaken if he happened to witness her death. Laurence knew it would be hard enough to explain to Jason what exactly had transpired when Emily left this world to enter another, but it would probably be still easier to retell it to Jason than to let him see it with his own eyes. Laurence could not help but imagine Emily, one moment coughing and breathing hard, the next moment silent forever – no, Jason would not understand, and he need not.

Jason, however, proved to be obstinate, so Laurence was forced to ask for the doctor's help to persuade the boy to stay away.

"Listen, Jason," the doctor said, "your sister will be worse tonight, and she needs her rest, she needs calm. Tomorrow, perhaps she will be doing better and you can visit her again, but tonight you should be a good boy and go to sleep and let her sleep too."

Laurence felt a bit guilty about having asked the doctor to tell his son a white lie, but he did not want to risk exposing the child to that inexplicable, horrible thing called death. So, he asked Catherine to take care of Jason for the night, and when Jason asked where he was going, he simply replied, "I need to see to certain tasks, son."

"But can't they wait till morning?"

"No," Laurence sighed, "I fear not."

With a heavy heart he left Harcourt's room and headed for Emily's, his son's latest words echoing in his mind: '_can't it wait till morning?_' Laurence was not sure Emily would survive the night, therefore what he had to tell her could not wait till morning.

He found Tilly tending to the patient, changing wet cloths on her forehead, and upon his entry she gave him a relieved, nervous smile. "Oh, Captain, how good you've come, I badly need to visit the lavatory but the doctor said she mustn't be left alone for a second…"

"I will take care of her," he replied, and she left for what he expected to be longer than an average lavatory-visit: the poor woman looked quite shaken and tired, she had been tending Emily for almost two weeks with no repose, it was only natural she wanted to take a rest from her task, from the smell of medicines… from the touch of death that was making itself felt more and more with every passing minute.

Laurence sat down on the bed, taking Emily's right hand into his: her skin felt hot and dry as a parchment.

He could not help but recall the first time he had spotted her in a window at Loch Laggan, surrounded by her peers Dyer and Morgan, questioning him if he were the captain of their brand new Imperial… He had been practically shocked to find out that Roland was not her Christian name and that she was a girl in the first place: she had looked so vivid, strong and boyish… so unlike she looked now.

'_She is a sturdy creature,'_ he remember Jane saying when he had asked her whether she was sending her daughter with him to Australia, and indeed, Emily had always proved to be sturdy, just like her mother… then again, however tough Jane had been, she had died in childbirth. No matter how strong Emily was, she could die of pneumonia, she could die this very night… She was in God's hands, and Laurence intended to pray throughout the night if that might save her, but first, he had to tell her how he felt. Even if she could not hear him, he had to try.

"Emily," he spoke up, "I know you hate me, but I want you to know that I do not hate you in return… not in the least. That time, in the tunnel, when I held you, kissed you, I felt something I had not felt for anyone else but Edith Galman… though I must admit I never made love to her. What I felt for you was probably even stronger than what I felt for her… she was a porcelain doll I had put on a shelf to wait for me there, because I was foolish enough to think I had a right to. _You_ I could never put on a shelf… if you so much as told me you liked me… at least a little bit… I would be yours, forever. Even if I were sent back to Australia… even with two oceans between us… I would claim to belong to you… something I never clearly did with Edith. See…" he lifted her right to his lips, "I am almost confessing love to you… quite crazy of me, is it not? But I wanted you to know that I feel very strongly for you. Whether it is love, I do not know yet, but I am sure it is very close to that. I could not bear to lose you, Emily…"

He sighed, his eyes lingering on her half-open lips as she took quick, almost desperate gasps of breath. "I am assuming you would never love me back, and I would lose you as soon as Temeraire and I sailed off to Australia, but… if you survived, I would not _completely _lose you… It is hard to explain. Just… just stay with us. With Jason and me and Excidium. We need you, so, so badly…"

He felt a tear drop run down his cheek and fell silent. _O Lord, have mercy on her, she is too young to die… and she has never really had a chance for happiness… I do not know about her childhood, probably she used to be a happy child, I only know her childhood ended too quickly, too suddenly… because of me. For the last five years her life has been bitter, empty… and full of guilt about not having fulfilled her mother's last wish. She could start a new life now… she could forgive and be forgiven… I want to… need to see her happy, even if that happiness is given her by someone else. I beg you to give her a chance… O Lord, please, give her a chance…_

At that moment he felt a feeble touch – she had squeezed his hand and coughed, her whole body twisting on the mattress, her left arm flailing for a few seconds – she must have been having feverish nightmares.

"No, Mother!" she gasped. "Mother, please, don't leave me!"

Laurence's heart sank – she was apparently reliving Jane's death. How he longed to wake her up, to save her from having to go through those horrible moments again… but he could do nothing.

"Mother… why…?" she muttered, tears running down her cheeks, but she would not awaken. "Did you… really… love him? O God, I did too… I still do! Laurence!" she yelled, then her body stopped convulsing and her next words were but a whisper, "Laurence… I love you."

She fell silent, and he sat by her, eyes wide in shock at what he had just heard – could it be true, or could her words merely mirror her feelings of five years earlier – her feelings _before_ she had learned to hate him? He would probably never find out.

"Emily… I am here," he said, gently caressing her sweaty cheek, but she did not stir.

A moment later Tilly arrived, so pale that her freckles practically shone out of her skin. "How's she doin'?"

"I do not know," Laurence shook his head. "May I stay here with her?"

"Oh, all right," she shrugged, "but you will have to go behind that screen while I wrap her in wet sheets… I feel she's needing it."

Laurence obediently disappeared behind the screen and only came out when Tilly announced that the patient's temperature had dropped slightly and she was once again decently dressed.

The doctor appeared around midnight, examined Emily then left with a grim expression – Laurence knew he could do nothing. If God did not save her, she would die by morning.

o

Morning found him sitting on Emily's right, his hand holding hers, his head hanging onto his chest – he did not remember when he had fallen asleep, he had not wanted to… For a moment he felt disoriented, squinted in the golden light of dawn filtering across the window, the room filled with bird song and Tilly's snores… and then he realised where he was and why he was there… The hand he held in his felt warm, not hot like the previous night, just a little warmer than normal… and there was a pulse, he felt it as his fingers slipped up to her wrist. _O God… she is alive! _He felt like laughing and crying, shouting it from the rooftops that Emily Roland had survived the ninth day… but he found all he could do was mutter her name over and over again and soak her fingers with his tears as he pressed her hand to his stubble-covered face.

By the time Tilly awoke, he had dried his tears and smoothed his clothes as much as possible to look decent for the doctor's visit.

The doctor arrived before breakfast time and looked more surprised than the nurse had when he found a living Emily – surprised but pleased. "One or two out of ten survive the ninth day," he informed Laurence. "This is a miracle, a real miracle…"

_Yes,_ Laurence thought with a smile. _Thank you, dear Lord. Thank you._

oOo

The next week father and son got back into the habit of visiting Emily in the evenings, but they found her asleep most of the time, and even when she came around for a mere few minutes, she seemed too dazed to recognise them.

Meanwhile Jason had reached the end of the alphabet and begun his first attempts at reading out words, even shorter paragraphs from books. Naturally the task was still quite difficult for him and he tired of it easily, so the evening of the eighteenth day after the accident found him slumbering over the fables of Aesop, using the book as a pillow. Laurence gently scooped him up and deposited him on the bed, then, after having tucked him in, left for his usual visit to Emily's room.

Tilly was more than glad to see him arrive and asked for an hour of leave – she allegedly had to meet with her sister at Dover to give her food and some of the money she had earned here as a nurse – apparently her sister was widowed with four children and barely any income.

"Thank you so much for taking care of her, Captain," she gushed at Laurence, flashing him with a would-be charming smile and – whether deliberately or not – bending down for her basket in a way that showed a little more of her cleavage than could be considered proper. "Where is your little boy, by the way?" she tucked her reddish hair behind her ear with a move that Laurence found downright coquettish.

"He fell asleep a little earlier today. Reading lessons exhaust him."

"Oh, then I must be glad I can't read, eh?" she giggled, playing with her skirt in an awkward sort of way that let him catch a glimpse of her ankles. "Oh well… I'll be back soon!"

Laurence was more than relieved to be rid of Tilly, he felt overly embarrassed by her barely concealed attempts at flirting. Not that she was not attractive, but he had never appreciated this sort of shy-provocative behaviour. Jane at least had always been to the point: whenever she wanted something from him, she made it clear with a kiss or with a tug towards either of their rooms, she had never resorted to the usual feminine attempts at seduction. As for Emily, she had been even more straightforward, no flipping of the skirt, no girly giggles, just a firm statement: 'I want you to make love to me'.

Until now Laurence had not even come to realise how much he preferred the straightforwardness of the Roland women to the bashful attempts of the average girl fluttering eyelashes at men from behind a fan…

And that was when he realised that with Tilly gone for an hour he was not even supposed to be here, it was highly improper for a man to stay in a woman's room without them being married… Not that it had bothered him much in his times with Jane, but now… it did make him feel awkward. What if someone happened to walk in and find him here alone with an unconscious girl? What would they think? Hopefully no one would jump to conclusions…

His train of thought was disrupted by a gentle moan from the bed – Emily was stretching and yawning, her eyes fluttering open.

Forgetting his earlier concerns, Laurence instinctively sat down next to her, giving her a smile. "Emily…"

"Laurence?" she knitted her eyebrows. For the first time since the accident, there was understanding glinting in her eyes: she had finally recognised him. "Can one really never get rid of you?" she asked, her voice raspy and shaky. "Have you followed me as far as the underworld?"

"What?" he blinked, then understanding dawned on him. "No, this is not the underworld… Emily, we have survived the tide, Excidium and Temeraire saved us."

For a long moment she stared at him, grey eyes wide with shock, then made a grimace. "Oh, shit."

oOo

**A/N:** Emily's going to be a bit grouchy. Or not just a bit. ;)

**Review, please!**


	10. History Repeats Itself

**A/N:** Last week I heard a story that made me think: how stupid can people get? It so happened that my mum's friend bought the Temeraire books for her 15-year-old grandson for his birthday. However, her daughter-in-law, the boy's mother, confiscated the books and said she was never going to let her son read them, because these books were historically incorrect and would only confuse the boy. Now honestly! Allegedly the boy has read Harry Potter. Is Harry Potter historically correct? *Agi bashes her head into an imaginary wall* God save us from idiots!

And now, let's go on with _this_ story…

**Chapter 10**

**History Repeats Itself**

Emily wished it were only a dream, a nightmare, and she would wake up soon to find she had either died as she was supposed to have, or that the whole unfortunate incident by the cliffs had not taken place at all.

But here was Laurence, sitting on her bedside, smiling at her benignly if a bit insecurely, and she knew he was telling the truth – they had survived, and everything that had happened beforehand had truly happened: she had indeed fired her gun that she had believed to be unloaded, the cliffs had indeed tumbled upon them, the tide had indeed come in… and they had indeed been intimate. And, the worst of all: _she_ had asked for it!

Emily knew she would never live it down.

Not meeting his eyes, rather staring at the ceiling, she asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I am taking care of you until the nurse returns…"

"The nurse?"

"You have been very ill," he replied, his voice sounding oddly shaky. "First the head injury, then the pneumonia…"

"Head injury? Pneumonia? What the hell are you talking about?"

He heaved a sigh. "When the dragons snatched us out of the cave, the ceiling came down and a stone hit your head. You were completely unconscious for a whole week due to the concussion… and the cold water caused you to have pneumonia. We nearly lost you."

"_We_?" she questioned, finally chancing a glance at him.

"Jason, the Corps… and me," he replied, adding the final word so quietly that it was barely a whisper.

"_You_?" she sat slightly up, as far as her diminished strength would allow. "_You_? What claim do you think you have on me?"

His cheeks reddened as he looked deeply into her eyes. "None, that is true… but even you have to admit that something… happened between us… in the tunnel."

"Something?" she snorted. "Oh yes, you fucked the living daylight out of me, that's what happened, and nothing else! And tell you what, that is no ground for any claim!"

He cast his eyes down. "I never said it was. But… you surely have felt more than just… physical bliss…"

"What more?" she hissed, fighting back the urge to punch him – although she was not sure she could have gathered enough strength for that, she felt so very weak. Yet, there was no way she would admit to him that she had considered their coupling more than just a physical act – that she had poured all her suppressed emotions, her hate, her love, her sorrow into it… he did not deserve to know that in the tunnel she had realised that her love for him had not completely died. "What more?" she repeated with growing vehemence. "For me it was only a physical experience, and not even… what did you call it? _Bliss?_ I don't know where you get your delusions, it was anything but blissful! I honestly do not know what my mother enjoyed so much about having intercourse with _you_…"

He pressed his lips tightly together, and she established with contentment that she had managed to hurt him. Problem was, she did not only feel contentment – she felt guilt as well. She had lied to his face. Seeing the way he blanched and swallowed, she almost reached out to take his hand and say 'I take it back, heavens, how could you think I did not like it?', but just almost. She had more dignity than that. Let him suffer.

"I am sorry for not having met your expectations," he said heavily, "I only wonder why you wished for a repeat if you disliked it so much… and why you scratched my back so badly in the first place… if not in the throes of passion?"

A coughing fit came over Emily – whether due to her illness or to something else, she did not know. "A gentleman would never… ask such a question… from a lady," she replied between two coughs.

He gave her a grim look. "I see no lady, Captain Roland. I only see a woman who kept humiliating me from the day I set foot in England, a woman who nearly shot me and still had the gall to ask for my… services, a woman who lied to my son and keeps lying to my face, a woman who swears like a trooper, but a woman whom… I honestly do not know why, I still love. There. I have said it," he sighed, rising to his feet. "I have been struggling with my emotions ever since that day in the tunnel, struggling to find out what I really felt… but I have only now fully recognised it for what it really was – _now_, that you have once again tried to humiliate me and I found I could not even be angry with you for it. Love is truly blind, is it not?" he added with a sad smile. "I beg your pardon for having disturbed you, I am sure the nurse will be back soon." With that he turned on his heels and strode towards the door.

Emily watched him walk away, feeling speechless. Had he truly said he loved her? But… but… what had she done to make him love her? Nothing, nothing at all! She had been absolutely horrible to him, humiliated him, tried to turn Jason against him, shouted at him… how could he then love her?

His hand was already on the doorknob, in a matter of seconds he would be outside… "Love me?" she called after him in a hoarse voice. "You must be mistaken, Laurence. You do not love me. I have not given you a reason to."

"Sometimes you do not need a reason to love someone," he shook his head, his eyes radiating all the sadness in the world, making her heart wrench. A lump grew in her throat and she felt tears prickling her eyes – but she would not cry, she would not show him how weak he had made her… damn him for making her feel like that, damn him for causing her pangs of remorse, damn him for ruining her life over and over again! He had no bloody right to walk back into her life and turn it upside down as he had already done six years earlier; and he had no right to talk like that, to make her want to blurt out 'I love you too!'

"You only _think_ you love me," she replied through gritted teeth. "Because I remind you of my mother. Do not give me that face, I know I have the same nose, the same lips… whatever you felt for her now you think you feel for me, but tell you what, I am not my mother!"

His hand was gripping the doorknob so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "I know you are not. She was never as hysterical, petulant and selfish as you are."

"I am not hysterical!" she flung one of her pillows at him, forgetting she was too weak for such an act. Her feeble attempt landed the pillow on the carpet, halfway between them.

"Not hysterical?" Laurence arched an eyebrow at her and bent for the pillow to give it back to her. "I suggest you rest, Captain Roland. As I said, you have been very ill, you surely do not wish for a relapse?"

"Go to hell, Laurence," she muttered, tucking the pillow back behind her head. "And if you walk out that door, do not come back again! From now on, do not even try to talk to me outside duty, do not even try to approach me!"

He slightly bowed in her direction. "I shall respect your wish. Good day to you, Captain Roland."

o

Emily felt like screaming, pummelling her pillow and crying, but found she could not even move – she was too exhausted for anything. Her stomach painfully suggested that she had not been eating properly for who knows how long, and she was thirsty too. When she looked around, she saw that the pitcher with the water stood on the table, out of reach, and she did not dare try to leave the bed to get to it – she was sure she would collapse if she did.

So, lacking anything else to do, she just lay in bed, submitting herself to her grief and confusion.

How dare he claim to love her? How dare he play with her emotions so cruelly? Could it be his payback for the way she had treated him after his return?

She shook her head. She could accuse Laurence of a great many things from being a traitor to being a damned lecher, but she could not accuse him of being a liar. He had always been honest – it had been his wretched honesty that had brought him home to England after the treason and had him nearly killed, giving her several sleepless nights… He simply could not have lied. But then…?

Emily closed her eyes, and pictured the truthfulness of his features as he had said 'a woman whom… I honestly do not know why, I still love', and felt her throat close. She almost felt the caress of his eyes, the caress of his hands, the soft kisses he had trailed down her neck in the tunnel, and suddenly she felt her temperature rise and could not even be sure if she were having a fever or just…

Panting, she opened her eyes, but as she glanced at the ceiling, she realised her vision was blurred with tears.

This was how the nurse found her and nearly dropped her little basket in surprise. "Oh, Miss, you've come round! How good to see you awake! How're you doin'?"

"Weak," Emily replied, wiping her tears angrily. "And you are…?"

"Tilda Grey, at your service," the woman made an awkward curtsey, "but everyone calls me Tilly. I've been your nurse for nearly three weeks now."

"Three weeks?" Emily gasped.

"Yes, Miss. You were taken ill on the sixteenth of April, and today is the fourth of May."

"A… are you sure it is May already?" It felt as though the cliff-accident had happened only yesterday.

"Of course, Miss," Tilly nodded. "I can't read letters, but I've been taught the numbers at least, those come in handy if you want to count your wages…"

"So… Tilly, you have been taking care of me for almost three weeks?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Have I been… really that ill?"

"Very much, Miss. The doctor said it was a miracle you survived the pneumonia, most don't. I tend to believe that it was the prayers."

"What prayers?" Emily frowned.

"The ones that the captain and his little boy kept saying for you. They did it all the time…"

Emily felt dizzy all of a sudden. If Tilly knew that Laurence was Jason's father, then Jason too surely knew… Damned Laurence, so he managed to claim the boy for himself after all! He had used her incapacity to lure Jason to himself! "They kept… coming here?" she asked, her hands involuntarily clenched into fists.

"Every day, Miss, every day."

"And they came together? Always… together?" Emily swallowed hard. She was mad at Laurence for having told Jason about their family ties, but for some reason the idea that Laurence might have visited her alone a few times excited her.

"Yes, Miss," Tilly smiled, reaching out to check her temperature. "You have a little fever, but nothing serious. Here, you must drink." She poured a glass of water for Emily, and while the patient drank, she continued chatting, "They are a handsome pair, the captain and his son, they look so much alike… I wonder if Jason will turn out just as good-looking as his father… How old is the captain again? Thirty-five? Thirty-six?"

"Forty-two," Emily replied tiredly.

"He looks good for his age… do you think that he would… care for a plain girl like me?" Tilly gave the patient a coy smile.

"Why would he not," Emily said testily, "he gladly takes any girl who willingly opens her legs for him."

"Oh," Tilly blushed. "He did not strike me as that kind of person…"

"You don't know him as well as I do," Emily grunted. "But, if you want him for the long term, you should consider moving to Australia, as he is a convicted traitor bound to return to the penal colonies." She squinted at Tilly to see her blanch. "Oh, apparently he has not told you that…"

The nurse shook her head and Emily closed her eyes, but instead of the satisfaction she was supposed to be feeling, she only felt hollowness. And what bothered her most was that this hollowness had come from the thought of his leaving for Australia.

Emily sniffed, blinking back a tear drop and drifted off to sleep.

oOo

"Gentlemen, I have good news for you," Laurence announced the following morning, making Temeraire wonder why he looked so wretched if he had good news. "Yesterday evening Captain Roland finally woke up and recognised her surroundings. I met the doctor this morning and he said she was healing nicely and in about three weeks she would be able to rejoin our ranks."

Temeraire clearly heard some groans from the crews of the other dragons, and surreptitiously glanced at Captain Hawthorn – even he looked disheartened by the prospect of having Roland back.

"Laurence, Laurence, they want you to stay their formation leader," he told his captain once their daily patrolling was over.

"You know that cannot happen, we are to return to Australia soon," the man sighed, but for some reason Temeraire thought his sadness had not come from the prospect of leaving England again, but from something else, only he could not guess what.

"Is something… bothering you?" he nudged his captain with his muzzle.

"Nothing that has not bothered me earlier," Laurence replied bitterly. "Will you wait for me here? I would like to fetch Jason and we could go for a flight if you like."

"Yes, Laurence, I would like that very much."

oOo

"…and I have learned the whole alphabet, I can read short texts already, and I can even write a bit, look!" Jason handed his sister a sheet of paper on which he had written in an untidy scrawl, 'Get beteR EMillY'.

"This is wonderful, Jason," she said, sitting up in her bed, her back propped against her pillows, "you are so clever!"

"Yes, papa and Temeraire too say I am, even if Temeraire managed to learn the Lord's Prayer much, much quicker than I did… but I know it now by heart, and even Hail Mary, shall I recite them?"

"Perhaps another time, Jason…" Emily gently ruffled the boy's hair. "Jason…?"

"Yes?"

"Tilly said that you two… Laurence and you… were praying for me. A lot."

"Yes, we were!" Jason nodded enthusiastically. "Papa said prayers have power and that it was God who healed you and gave you back to us!"

Emily felt as though some invisible hand had compressed her gullet. _'It was God who healed you and gave you back to us.'_ To _us_… She did not want to consider herself having been given back to Laurence… no way… and yet, it felt somehow nice to hear it from Jason. It felt heart-warming, but bordering on tormenting. She had never thought something could feel so good and so painful at the same time. And just to think that Laurence had prayed for her… it was overwhelming. Would it not have been easier for him if she had died? He could have had Jason just to himself, without having to quarrel with her about the child…

Her train of thought was disrupted by Tilly knocking on the door. "Excuse me, Miss, but Captain Laurence is requesting to take Jason for a flight on Temeraire."

Emily raised an eyebrow at the nurse. "Is he asking for my permission to let Jason go?"

"Nay, Miss, he is merely asking Jason if he would like to go."

"Of course I would," the boy jumped down from his sister's bedside. "I'll be back in the evening and tell you how the flight went! Bye, Emily!"

Emily stared after her little brother, too shocked to even comment. Laurence had not even asked for her permission to take Jason and Jason had not asked for her permission to go either! Bitter tears gathered in her eyes. He had truly taken her brother from her.

_But not forever,_ she swore. _Laurence leaves soon, and there is no way I am going to let him take Jason! If he tries, he can be sure my gun will be loaded next time!_

oOo

Three weeks had passed since Emily had come around, and Laurence was intent on occupying himself every minute of the day so that he need not think about her. He knew well enough that she had not meant it when she said she had not enjoyed their little fling in the tunnel, but problem was, for him it had been more than just a fling. He tried to gather arguments _against _loving Emily, and there were multitudes of it, but no matter how much his mind wanted to persuade him of the foolishness of his heart, his heart was still the stronger of the two.

If someone had asked him what he loved about her, he could not have explained, and neither did he manage to when Temeraire said, one day, "You are unhappy, Laurence. Is it because we are going to go back to Australia soon?"

"No, my dear."

"Then is it because you will have to leave Jason behind if we go?"

"Partly."

"Why, could we not take Jason with us? I am sure he would love to see the world…"

"Pray do not even mention such things," Laurence replied, "especially not to him. We do not want to give him ideas."

"But… does he _know _that we are leaving soon?"

Laurence shook his head. "I do not really know how to tell him. But once Iskierka has the egg, I _will_ tell him... somehow. Do you have an idea when Iskierka finally has the egg? Just about?"

"Er…" Temeraire absent-mindedly began ploughing the dirt with his talons, "no, not really…"

For a fleeting moment Laurence felt that his dragon was avoiding his eyes, and he could not fathom why, but before he could have asked, Temeraire went on, "It is about Emily, is it not? You are sad because you know she would never let Jason to come with us."

"Of course she would never let him… and let us face it, Australia is no place for children, it is mostly uncivilised, he would not get a proper education there, and…"

"But Laurence, he has not got a proper education here either… It has been _you _who taught him to read and write… you could teach him things in Australia as well, and I could help, especially with calculus."

Laurence waved his hand. "Still… he has to stay here. Here is his future, with the Corps. I could not offer him anything… not even my tainted name."

"But _do_ you want to offer him your name?"

Laurence hung his head. "He is better off being a Roland, not to mention that my family would never officially acknowledge him. No, he will be respected enough being Admiral Roland's son… but he would never be respected being my son… the son of a convicted traitor… and after I leave, people will sooner or later forget that I am the father and will only remember that _Jane_ was the mother. And that is what counts."

"And Emily?"

"What about her?" Laurence sighed.

"How do you feel about her… especially after the you know… back-clawing?"

Laurence nearly laughed at the absurdity of the question, but he bit it back. "The back-clawing… I mean… the mating… made me realise that she meant more to me than I thought she did… and now it torments me to know she hates me."

"But does she…?"

"Of course she does," the man replied dismissively. "Why else do you think she would have forbidden me to enter her room? It is a wonder she has not forbidden me to see Jason yet…"

"Well, she did forbid you… before the accident. It was just that you rebelled against her prohibition while she was out cold. And you had every right to do so."

"Temeraire, pray do not start another rebellion…"

"Sorry," the dragon replied, looking slightly abashed. "But still… you love Jason, but you love Emily too. Could you not just tell her that?"

"I have already told her… and she threw a pillow at me."

"A pillow? How intimidating," Temeraire chuckled, and even Laurence's lips tucked into a grin. "And do tell… if you do not mind telling, that is… with whom was it better: Jane or Emily?"

"With whom was is better: Mei or Iskierka?" Laurence countered.

Captain and dragon stared at each other for a long moment, then both burst out laughing, Temeraire's roaring laughter filling the clearing and likely to be heard from half a mile.

Laurence thought he was acting childishly, but sometimes it felt so good to let himself be carefree like a child, even if only for a few moments. However, as he spotted his little son approaching, he quickly wiped the tears of laughter and straightened his features. Not that he would ever be as stiff and boring a father as Lord Allendale had been to him, but Jason need not tell Emily that his papa was immature…

"Papa, imagine, I have just met Captain Berkley, and he said there were two ladies looking for you by the covert gates," Jason announced.

"Indeed?" Laurence asked, surprised. He had no idea who his mysterious visitors might be – he definitely had not been expecting anyone. "Well then, let us go."

They had barely put a few yards between themselves and Temeraire when the dragon called after him, "Laurence, it was Iskierka."

The captain gave his dragon a crooked grin over his shoulder. "It was Emily."

o

"What was Emily?" Jason asked, frowning.

"Nothing," Laurence replied, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"But papa…"

They had just rounded a corner and Laurence stopped in his stride – from their current position he had a clear view of the covert gates and the two women standing there: one of them elderly, dressed in black, the other slightly younger than him, with features as delicate as a porcelain doll. "O God," he whispered, and letting go of Jason's shoulder, practically ran towards them. He stopped before them, slightly panting. "Mother… Edith… what… what are you doing here?"

The old woman stepped closer and gathered him in her arms. "Will, my dear… it is so good to see you… I received your letter two weeks ago, and since I knew I would be spending some time with my old friend Lady Lovegood here in Dover, because she invited me, I thought I would not write back but surprise you instead."

"This is the best surprise ever," Laurence smiled. "Thank you so much for coming. Edith…" he turned to the younger woman, "to what do I owe the honour…?"

"Pray leave the formalities, Will," she smiled, her smile gentle although somewhat sadder than the one he had remembered from his youth. There were a few wrinkles in the corners of her eyes and several grey locks mingling with the honey-coloured ones, but she was still the epitome of femininity, elegant and fragile. "I was in the city with my son," she carried on, giving him her hand for a kiss, "visiting my aunt and I met your mother at Aunt Margaret's reception the other day. She told me you were back and I simply could not miss the opportunity to see you. I must say you look well."

Laurence felt himself blush slightly, even forgetting that he was still holding her hand. "And you look charming as always."

It was Edith's turn to blush and gently slip her hand out of his. "I… I would like to thank you for sending me Bertram's ring back. I never had a chance to express my gratitude."

Laurence's heart sank. "You have nothing to thank me for, Edith. It was the least I could do."

There was a bit of a commotion behind his back, but he did not turn around – he could guess from the noises that one of the couriers had just touched down and everyone had gathered around him or her to find out whether they had received post. "Pray do not be frightened, it is just a courier," he told the women, seeing Edith's pallor. His mother did not seem scared in the least, Temeraire had been larger than a courier even when she had first met him, and she had met quite a few dragons at Wollaton Hall during the invasion, a Winchester would certainly not frighten her anymore.

Suddenly his little boy was by his side, saying excitedly, "Imagine, imagine, Admiral Little has just got a letter from the Duke of Wellington! Someone has just said it! It must be something really exciting, or people wouldn't have talked about it like that… is this duke an important person? Have you met him? Er… sorry, pa… I mean, sir," he said, finally realising that his father was talking to the ladies. "I shall go now… I am sorry, my ladies, I'm really not this impolite… I was just so curious… er… I'll just go. It has been a pleasure to meet you!"

Jason ran away, and for a long moment Laurence was too shocked to react. It was his mother who broke the silence, "So, eventually you _have_ given me a grandchild…"

"I… er…" Laurence felt his cheeks burn. "What makes you think that…?"

"Will, I am sure your mother remembers just as well as I do what you looked like as a child," Edith said with a soft giggle, "or even better, as she must remember what you looked like at age five, while I was only a baby then… I only have proper memories of you from the time you turned around nine… anyway, the resemblance is uncanny."

"I do not remember what I looked like as a child… but too many people have told me he is my spitting image to ignore it," Laurence said with a vague smile. "I am sorry not to have mentioned this to you earlier, Mother, but even I only found out a couple of weeks ago… and I did not wish to inform you in a letter."

Lady Allendale gave him a warm, if slightly reprimanding smile. "Never mind, my dear. I am glad I have had a chance to meet him at all. He seems a clever, energetic child… what is his name?"

"Jason," Laurence replied. "Jason… Roland," he added with some remorse.

"Roland?" his mother knitted her eyebrows, thinking. "Was that little girl not called a Roland…? The one I thought to be…?"

"…your granddaughter, but who in fact was not?" Laurence finished the sentence, feeling more and more awkward to have this conversation standing in the covert gates, especially with his one-time sweetheart present. "You mean Emily Roland. Jason is Emily's half-brother."

"Oh," Lady Allendale's eyes glinted in a way that suggested she had just remembered something, "is her… their mother not an admiral?"

"Their mother _was_ an admiral," Laurence sighed. "Jane Roland, Admiral of the Air, the lady you met at Wollaton Hall during the invasion."

"What do you mean… she _was_?"

"She died. When Jason was born."

"Oh," his mother said. "How terrible, that poor woman… poor Emily… and that poor little boy… and you, William, have not even been around, have not even known…?"

Laurence felt shrinking in the crossfire of the chiding maternal eyes. "I fear I have not, and I regret it… you have no idea how much."

"Well, you should," Lady Allendale said strongly, then seemed to soften all of a sudden and gently squeezed his arm. "We all make mistakes… and God knows you are not the first to have made this mistake. Though… I must say… I am glad your father will not find out about this." She held a short pause, then carried on, "We lost him last November."

Laurence did not know what to say – it had been a wonder his father had lived nine years after his health had been ruined due to the news of his son's treason.

"I only wish… that little Emily were my granddaughter," Lady Allendale said after a while, "for I have none. Katie died three years ago of scarlet fever."

Kathleen Isabelle Laurence had been his eldest brother George's only daughter and Lady Allendale's only granddaughter. All Laurence could do was take his mother's hand and give it a tender squeeze. "I am so sorry to hear that."

"I am sorry to bring you such sad news," his mother replied, "but at least I have met you… seen that you are doing well… and you have a beautiful son. Be a good father to him, Will."

"I shall try, Mother," he bowed slightly, "but even you know I cannot stay long…"

"How long are you staying?" Edith asked with an almost excited little waver in her voice.

"I do not know that… probably a few more weeks… probably two months… it all depends on how quick Temeraire and his mate manage an egg."

"Oh, I see," Edith flushed slightly by the implication of breeding. "Well, in any case, we would like to see you again… if that is possible," she reddened even more. "Perhaps… if your time allows… you could join us for tea…"

"…and bring along Jason," Lady Allendale added. "I would like to get to know him better."

oOo

Two days later when their daily patrolling was over, Laurence found Jason sitting on the edge of the clearing where the formation touched down.

"Well, gentlemen," he turned to the other captains after he had clambered down Temeraire's side, "this has been our last day together with me as your formation leader – Captain Roland is going to rejoin us tomorrow."

There were several groans from captains, crewmembers and dragons alike, making Laurence feel a little bit of warmth in his heart – they had indeed grown to like him – or perhaps it was not even about liking, only about the fact that he had been more humane to them than Emily had, which, in itself was not a particular feat – _anyone_ could be more humane than Emily Roland. "You will oblige me by forgoing these groans tomorrow," he said sternly, "and welcoming her back properly."

"But…" Jason walked to them from the edge of the clearing, "…but Emily isn't coming back tomorrow… I thought you knew."

"She is not?" Laurence raised an eyebrow at his son. "Why not? Last week the doctor said he was going to allow her back on Excidium in exactly a week's time…"

"Yes, but that was before she had got worse," Jason shrugged.

"Worse?" Temeraire asked, and Laurence felt himself blanch.

"Yeah… she seems to have acquired some stupid illness, she's been having an upset stomach for days. Yesterday I saw her throw up on Tilly…" Jason replied with a chuckle. "The doctor doesn't think it's serious, though, so no worries, but she has to stay away for at least another week."

"Well then, gentlemen," Laurence, suppressing a sigh of relief, turned back to the other five captains, "it seems you will have to put up with me for another couple of days."

There was a relieved murmur issuing from each and everyone around.

"It's a shame they dislike Emily so much," Jason said with a grimace once the others had dispersed. "She really isn't that horrible. At least to me she's mostly kind. Well, can we go now, papa?"

"Of course, son."

"Where are you going?" Temeraire inquired.

"To Dover, to get me decent clothes!" Jason said brightly. "Not that my clothes aren't decent, but… tomorrow we're going to have tea with some really fine ladies, one of them my very own grandmother, and papa says my clothes aren't fit for that. I have never been to Dover for clothes shopping, isn't it exciting?"

"Well, wearing something nice is always exciting," Temeraire agreed, and instinctively began polishing his breastplate.

On their way towards the covert gates, father and son met Admiral Little who beckoned to them.

"Yes, Admiral?"

"I have heard Captain Roland is not doing well enough to return to work yet, so I hope you do not mind continuing your tasks as formation leader?" Little asked.

"Not at all, Admiral."

"Good. Just for your information – I have told most formation leaders already – I am leaving today for London. Wellington's orders. I shall be back as soon as possible."

oOo

"…and of course we're all wondering why the duke wanted Admiral Little to go to London," Jason told Emily the following day. She was no longer in bed, but sitting in an armchair, feeling inexplicably weak and dizzy.

"Are you listening at all?" Jason said a little sharply, shaking Emily out of her half-stupor.

"What? Yes, yes, of course, Little left for London. I am sorry, Jason, I just feel so tired."

"Of course you are feeling tired, Miss," Tilly chimed in, "you have not been eating properly for six weeks, and it is no wonder your stomach hasn't yet managed to get used to solid food… but the doctor said we could reduce your dose of solid food and try some porridge again if your stomach bears that better…"

"Heavens, anything but porridge," Emily paled, feeling nauseated by the mere idea. For weeks and weeks she had been living on porridge and tea, she could no longer bear to even look at it.

"Then I'll bring you some broth, shall I?" Tilly suggested and left the room.

"Finally," Jason sighed. "She is annoying." He leaned closer to his sister and said conspiratorially, "I was so glad when you vomited on her yesterday!"

"But Jason," Emily shook her head, laughing. "It is not nice to talk about people like that…"

"Yeah, I know, papa tells me that all the time… he even forbade the formation to talk like that about…" he bit into his lower lip and blushed furiously.

"What did he tell the formation? And what authority does he have to forbid anyone on the formation to do anything?" Emily frowned.

"Oh, haven't I told you yet? Little made him formation leader until you got better."

"Laurence – formation leader?" Emily stiffened in her seat. "Now, that is outrageous."

"Why? Because he's a convicted traitor?" Jason asked innocently.

"He has told you about that?" the young woman's eyes widened. She could not imagine why Laurence would want to discredit himself before his own son by admitting he was convicted…

"Yes, he's told me everything," the boy nodded. "He told me how some nasty British people infected the French dragons and that he and Temeraire could not bear to watch all dragons die… I think they were real heroes, I'm so proud of papa!"

Emily's hands balled into fists, and she had to take a few calming breaths. Laurence might have won a few battles in her absence, but he was not going to win the war. He might have persuaded the boy that he had been a hero, and Emily knew she would only work against herself if she told Jason the opposite now, but no matter how much Laurence had managed to ingratiate himself with Jason, the child would stay with her in England, and she would win in the end, either way. She only had to be patient and wait until Temeraire and Iskierka managed that dratted egg, and then she would be rid of Laurence forever. And once Laurence was out of the picture, she would be able to get closer to Jason again, and in a few months the boy would barely even remember his father. The memories of a five-year-old fade quickly, after all…

No, Emily was not overly concerned. Jason was hers and would remain hers. Full stop.

"Yes, dear, your papa is one of a kind," she told her little brother with a forced smile.

"Yeah, isn't he?" Jason beamed at her. "He has taught me so, so much! I can read possibly anything now! May I show you? May I?"

"Naturally, Jason… but what would you read to me?" Emily looked around – her room was not exactly crammed with books, there were only a few shabby volumes standing on a high shelf, gathering dust.

"There's the Bible, I can see it!" Jason pointed at the high shelf. "I'd love to read out from that, but I can't reach it…"

With a sigh, Emily stood up and took the Bible off the shelf. Even this slight movement made her feel dizzy and she slumped back into her chair with the room madly dancing around her.

Jason enthusiastically snatched the book out of her hand and opened it at a random place. "Here, the gospel of Luke," he said. "With papa we've been reading Mark, because that's the shortest, but I can try Luke, I think… so…" he cleared his throat and began reading. "_'And it came to pass that, when Elizabeth heard the salutation of Mary, the babe leaped in her womb; and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Ghost: And she spake out with a loud voice, and said, Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb. And whence is this to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For, lo, as soon as the voice of thy salutation sounded in mine ears, the babe leaped in my womb for joy. And blessed is she that believed: for there shall be a performance of those things which were told her from the Lord',_" Jason looked up. "Pretty good, huh? I didn't even stutter! Though… I didn't understand much of what I read here… can you explain? What is a womb, Emily?"

She opened her mouth, but before she could have replied, Tilly entered with a tray and a plate full of steaming broth, and said, "The captain is waiting for Jason outside."

"Oh, really!" the boy slammed the Bible on the bed and jumped up from his seat. "We're going to visit grandmother and I still have to change into my elegant clothes first! Got to go, bye, Emily!"

She watched her little brother hurry out of the room – he had left so quickly she had not even had a chance to question him about this visit to his… grandmother.

_Grandmother?_ – she wondered. _Oh, Lady Allendale…_

"Here, Miss," Tilly placed the plate of broth on the table before her, but Emily had not even noticed it until its delicious smell reached her nostrils. Only that its delicious smell did not feel exactly delicious and in the next moment she found herself on her knees, bending over the chamber pot and getting reacquainted with the dry toast she had had for breakfast.

"But Miss, you haven't even tasted it yet," Tilly shook her head in disbelief. "Surely it can't smell so bad… Honestly I don't know what's wrong with you, whatever the doctor says, your stomach should have got used to solid food by now! Unless, of course, you've acquired some nasty disease, which wouldn't be a wonder in your weakened condition…"

Emily, however, barely heard her words, she was gasping for breath, her eyes squeezed shut. It took her minutes before she felt strong enough to move and shove away Tilly's helping hand – she was a Roland, after all, she would not be handled like an infant… She dropped herself on the bed, finally opening her eyes. The first thing she caught a glimpse of was the Bible, still open at the gospel of Luke. Through slightly glazed eyes, she managed to make out the line '_Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb_.'

She froze. "T… Tilly?" she muttered.

"Yes, Miss?"

"Since… since it was you taking care of me while I was… unconscious… it was you who… changed me too… right?"

"Of course, Miss."

Emily swallowed hard. "Tilly… did I… while I was unconscious… did I have… my monthly?"

The nurse scratched her jaw with a pondering face. "Now that you mention it… nay. You did not."

For a moment time stood still – Emily even forgot to blink. "Leave me alone," she said finally, her voice low and almost unfamiliar even to herself.

"But Miss…"

"I said leave," Emily snapped, "and don't you dare mention this to anyone!"

The nurse nodded with a slightly frightened expression and hurried out, slamming the door shut, leaving a wretched young woman behind.

The world reeled with Emily. This simply could not be true… surely life could not play such an evil trick on her? History could not repeat itself in such a cruel fashion?

Tears welled up in her eyes as she hissed through gritted teeth, "Damn you, Laurence! Damn you a thousand times!"

oOo

**A/N:** the next chapter will be long. Very long. Also cruel. Very cruel.

**Please, ****don't be lazy and leave a review! :)**


	11. Revenge is Sweet

**Chapter 11**

**Revenge is Sweet**

Emily did not know how long she had cried, she only knew that while normally it was a relief to cry, this time it brought no relief – even when her tears had ebbed, she felt just as wretched as she had before.

_All right, no reason to panic_, she told herself. _No one knows, probably only Tilly suspects it, based on my question… never mind. Only one thing matters: Laurence must not find out._

Her nausea had somewhat abated, so she grabbed the spoon, and taking deep breaths to fight down any urge to throw up, she slowly sipped at the broth. She would not starve just because she was expecting, and she most definitely would not show anyone how weak her condition had made her! No, a Roland would not let a trivial thing as pregnancy interfere with her life and stop her from going back to work! For Emily had decided she would start working the following day, no matter what. She would not continue withdrawing into her room and most definitely would not give Laurence a prolonged chance to boss around _her_ formation!

She would take back what was hers: her brother, her subordinates, her dignity. She might have lost some of the latter in Laurence's arms, begging for more, but she would pretend it had not happened at all. In fact, she decided to ignore her condition as well. This child was unwanted, a nuisance, a result of an unfortunate accident, and if heavy work should chance to induce a miscarriage, then so be it. She would never stoop so low as to try and kill her baby, but she would not give up her job to protect it either.

Deep down she knew this was not how she was supposed to be thinking of an innocent little being growing inside of her, but currently she was not capable of any motherly feelings – all she was capable of feeling was anger, bitterness and shame. Perhaps once Laurence left for Australia, she would allow herself to entertain the idea of motherhood, but until then she would push this child out of her thoughts as though it did not even exist.

Yes, that was the only viable path – pretending she was fit as a fiddle even if she was not, and keeping her condition a secret from Laurence, hoping he would leave England soon.

For a fleeting moment it crossed her mind how satisfying it would be to shout in his face that she was expecting his child and that he would lose not just one of his children when he left but two, not to mention that his second he would never even see; but she thought better of it. Not that she would not have liked to see him shocked by the news and saddened by the idea of being deprived of both his children, but for the time being it was better if he did not know. Hopefully Temeraire and Iskierka were diligently working on that egg to rid her of Laurence, the sooner the better…

Having finished her soup, Emily stood up and took a few tentative steps. She was not feeling overly dizzy, so she decided to go for a walk. If she wanted to get stronger, she not only had to eat properly but move properly as well. Besides, she had not seen Excidium for ages, the poor thing must be missing her so much…

Tilly was sitting outside on a bench, and as Emily left her room, she jumped up from her seat with an expression of dismay. "What do you think you're doing, Miss? The doctor said you needed rest!"

"The doctor was wrong," Emily replied with a shrug, "I am feeling perfectly fine, the broth was delicious, by the way, thank you. And also thank you for all your services… you are dismissed now. I no longer need a nurse."

"But Miss… let the doctor decide whether you need me or not…!" Tilly said shakily.

Emily gently patted the other woman on the shoulder. "My decision is not against you, Tilly… I do not want you to lose your job… but I am sure the doctor will find another patient for you to take care of, someone who needs you more. I am healthy already. Please, gather your things and leave before nightfall. The Corps will certainly take care of your salary, so never fear for that."

The nurse's lips wavered as she said, "I never feared for that… but I do fear for your health, Miss. You are not well yet and apparently you're also expect…"

Tilly could not finish her sentence because Emily pressed her hand against her lips. "Not a word about that. Not a single word! Please, Tilly. Promise me that."

The nurse nodded with slightly fearful eyes – Emily's behaviour had obviously scared her.

"Thank you." Emily released Tilly and with deliberate steps set out for Excidium's clearing.

oOo

"They seem to get along quite well," Edith said with a small smile as she and Laurence glanced down into the courtyard of Aunt Margaret's house. Jason and James were playing around the tiny fountain, their laughter like jingling of bells, a balm to Laurence's soul. Nothing ever could sound as clear and innocent as a child's laughter… and to think he would soon have to leave his little son behind… it was heart-wrenching.

"Yes, they do," he nodded. "I was a bit concerned James would not want to play with Jason because of their age difference, but it does not seem to matter much…"

"Perhaps because your son is exceptionally clever," Edith replied.

"Perhaps. I tend to think he is a bit precocious, but I have never had any comparison, so I cannot be sure. I only know he is very bright."

"Yes, he is. I do not know about his mother, but you are not exactly dumb yourself, so no wonder your son turned out the way he did."

Laurence coloured a bit – he had almost forgotten what it was like to be flattered by Edith, even if 'not exactly dumb' did not count as much of a flattery. "Well… Jane was very clever. I should say much cleverer than I could ever hope to be. No wonder Wellington insisted she be made Admiral of the Air…"

For a long moment Edith looked away, as if she were reluctant to meet his eyes, her gaze fixed on the horizon. She seemed far away, although she was standing right next to him – something he had more often than not experienced in her presence: she had always been the unattainable marble goddess. Finally she said with trembling lips, "Did you… did you love her?"

Laurence swallowed hard. He had not expected to be questioned by his one-time fiancée about his one-time lover – to be questioned by the woman he had loved in his heart but never loved physically, about a woman he had loved physically, but never in his heart. It was simply ironic.

"No," he said. "I do not think so. There were short periods of time when I thought I did… or almost did… I felt something for her that was bordering on love, but… I do not think it was that. Not really."

Edith finally chanced a glance at him, her face paler than ever, her eyes full of emotion. For a second he forgot he was seeing wrinkles around her eyes and greying hairs half-hidden in her locks – she looked like his little Edith, the fragile porcelain doll…

It was his turn to look away, fearing he would blush even more if he did not. "Jane and I… well… our relationship was one of convenience," he added flatly.

"Just like mine with Bertram," she replied quietly, which made Laurence involuntarily look back at her, his eyes wide in surprise. "I never loved him," she went on, "if that is what you are wondering. At least… not like I loved you."

"Edith, please…"

"No, Will… pray do not get embarrassed… there is no need to. I know it all belongs to the past, and I could honestly say I had a great life with Bertram… however short it was."

He instinctively reached out and took her by the shoulder. "I am so sorry he died."

"Do not be," she hung her head. "He died a hero… the hero he always longed to be in order to rival you… and I truly appreciated his efforts, however futile they were." Shakily she took his right hand off her shoulder and squeezed it with both hands. "I have missed you, Will. I am glad to know you are doing well… I am glad to have met you before I leave."

"Leave?" he echoed.

She nodded. "To Halifax in Canada. We are moving there. James, me, my cousin Diana and her husband. Her husband sees great business opportunities there, and I… I just need to leave. For years and years I have not been able to… find my place here in England. For years I would have given anything just to be able to leave."

Laurence's throat closed. "I would give anything just to be able to stay."

Edith let go of his hand. "I am sorry to have brought it up… sorry to have caused you any pain… but you had to know. I would love to meet you again before we leave… we do not yet know the exact date, it could be days, probably weeks. We have already packed most of our things and are currently waiting for Diana's husband to settle his business affairs here…"

"And what of your son? Do the Woolveys not insist on him staying?"

"Oh, they tried to, and I told them I was only taking James with me because he wanted to come. Once he is old enough to decide where he wants to live – he may return. It is his choice. But… do tell me about yourself. What are you doing these days?"

Laurence felt the finality of her words – she did not want to dwell on family affairs, nor on 'what could have been', and he had to admit he felt a bit relieved to be rid of the painful topics. "Well, nowadays I am in charge of Captain Roland's formation until she recovers…"

"Is she the sister of your son? What happened to her? Is she ill?"

"Yes, she is Jason's big sister, and yes… she is ill, but thankfully recuperating nicely," Laurence said, hoping he had not blushed at the question 'what happened to her?'. "But my duties here are to end soon, Temeraire and I are going to return to Australia, where we usually take part in construction works and land clearing…"

"What is Australia like?"

"Dry."

"A little more detail?" Edith arched an eyebrow at him playfully.

"Dry and hot. Very dry and very hot," he replied with a lopsided smile.

"Then I presume that is where your nice tan comes from?"

"Er… supposedly…" he looked away again – another flattery. He still remembered how madly he had flushed every time she had flattered him as a child…

"You still tend to blush, Will," she chuckled softly, and as their eyes met, he felt that he was thirteen again and nothing had changed – they were two carefree children with bright futures that they would spend together…

"Papa, papa!" Jason shouted, breaking the almost-magic of the moment, running up to him, followed by James. "Jamie says he wants to meet Temeraire! Can we show him? Can we? Pleeease?"

"Well…" Laurence glanced at Edith who had blanched at the prospect of meeting a dragon, but Lady Allendale, who had just stepped out onto the corridor with Edith's aunt in tow, said, "I would love to meet him too. Last time at the covert you said we could not because he was… mating, but surely you can find time when he is not engaged in such activities…"

Laurence glanced at Edith's aunt to see her redden at the mention of Temeraire's 'activities' and he could barely repress a chuckle. "Well, I do not see why you could not visit him. I am sure I could arrange a meeting… actually, I think their daily mating session should be over by now."

"Excellent," Lady Allendale clasped her hands. "We may take my carriage. Edith, are you coming, dear?"

"If my son is brave enough to face a dragon, then so am I," Edith straightened her back. "We may go, of course."

"We will have to get out of the carriage at the outskirts of Dover, though, because the horses can smell the dragons and they will be frightened," Laurence replied.

"Why do we not walk then? It is not that far away," his mother suggested, taking Jason by the hand. "And you can show us the way, young man."

"I shall, grandmother!" Jason grinned, enthusiastically pulling Lady Allendale down the corridor.

"Aunt Margaret?" Edith asked benignly, but the old woman shook her head. "No, thank you, no dragons for me!"

"Well, then…" Edith looked expectantly at Laurence who, with a slight delay, offered her his arm. As they walked down the stairs and out of the house, for a moment he felt they were like a happy family: mother, father, sons and grandmother – something he might have had, if Temeraire's egg had not practically fallen into his lap. But he quickly banished any thought of regret – he had nothing to be ungrateful for. He was alive despite having been sentenced to death, he had a son despite having long given up on children, and he had the best and most precious friend a man could hope for, his Temeraire.

oOo

The most precious friend a man could hope for was currently horribly bored. He and Iskierka had spent at least an hour with imitating mating noises and both of them had got tired of it by now. Temeraire could no longer blame Iskierka for complaining over being bored – it was really not entertaining at all. But for Laurence, he would continue like this forever, if that meant he could keep his beloved captain in England. Of course he knew their little charade could not go on forever – sooner or later people would start to wonder why it took them so long to make an egg when it had not taken them long at all the last two times…

"Enough," Iskierka snorted, a huge spurt of steam issuing from her nostrils. "My throat has got sore from all this grunting and moaning…" she cast an unsatisfied glance at him. "Do not tell me you do not wish to do it for real!"

"I am not telling I do not," Temeraire replied coolly, "but you must remember our agreement. Four more weeks and you are getting all my talon-sheaths."

"And can we mate _after_ four more weeks?"

"Yes," he sighed, "I believe we can. We have delayed it long enough…" Discontentedly he peered over the hedge onto the vast clearing which belonged to Excidium. The older dragon slept in a far corner of his clearing – he had spent most of his time sleeping, having nothing better to do in his handler's absence. This time, however, Temeraire spotted Emily approaching from the direction of the barracks. At the same time he spotted Laurence, Jason, Lady Allendale and two unfamiliar people approaching from the direction of the gates.

"Uh-oh… there is going to be trouble…" he muttered.

"Why?" Iskierka murmured in a bored voice.

"I think Laurence is coming to see me, he must have suspected our mating would be over by now, but there is also Emily visiting Excidium, and… well… you know they do not like each other much…"

Iskierka looked up, interest – almost excitement – glinting in her yellow eyes. "Oh, a good little scrap! Just what I need!"

"Shhh!" Temeraire hushed her. "I want to hear everything… or better yet, you should perhaps leave, they want to talk to me, after all, not you."

"Leave?" she hissed. "This is _my _clearing, you leave!"

Temeraire resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "All right, stay, but be silent!"

Iskierka let out an indignant grunt and settled on her haunches.

As Temeraire had expected, Emily met Laurence and his escort on her way to Excidium's clearing.

"Emily, are you not supposed to be resting?" Jason inquired.

"No, Jason, I am fine," she shook her head with a grim expression, then turned to the others. "Lady Allendale, a pleasure to meet you again."

"Likewise, my dear," Laurence's mother replied with a jovial smile. "You have turned into a pretty young woman."

"I thank you, my lady," Emily nodded her head, her brows knitted as she sized up Laurence and the beautiful woman on his arm.

"Oh," Laurence said, "Edith, may I introduce to you Captain Roland, sister of my son? Captain Roland, please meet Mrs. Woolvey, an old acquaintance of mine… and her son, James."

Emily inclined her head slightly in Edith's direction, but Temeraire could see the contempt on her face – or was it contempt at all? Was it not rather… jealousy?

"Pleasure," Emily said curtly, then turned to Laurence. "If we have so luckily run into each other, let me grab the opportunity to announce that I am returning to work tomorrow."

"But Em… Captain Roland!" Laurence stuttered. "The doctor said…"

"Hang the doctor's opinion, I am fine, and I am not going to let you allow my formation run wild any longer… I can well imagine what you have made of them already…"

Laurence opened his mouth to protest, but Temeraire was quicker. Leaning over the hedge, he said, "I beg your pardon, Emily, but Laurence has been an excellent formation leader, everyone on the formation likes him, something you cannot tell about yourself, I hear… Oh, and it is a pleasure to meet you again, my lady," he bowed his head in Lady Allendale's direction which the old woman returned kindly if a bit insecurely – the poor lady must have had no idea what to make of the exchange happening right before her eyes.

"Is this your dragon?" the unfamiliar boy standing next to the newly introduced Edith Woolvey, asked. "He is so… big."

"Oh," Temeraire straightened his back proudly. "Well… I am not exactly small, but you should see Maximus, he is even bigger than me…"

"Well, I am too bigger than you," Iskierka chimed in, putting her head over the hedge too. Edith Woolvey, who had so far managed to keep her composure, now began literally shaking. Temeraire had never expected that someone would find Iskierka's looks so much more intimidating than his… it was not exactly flattering.

Emily used the moment of silence to turn to Laurence again. "I do not care for anyone's opinion, I am returning tomorrow, and I insist you have Jason's bed brought back to my room this very evening!"

"But… what about Tilly?" Jason knitted his eyebrows. "Where will she sleep? The room isn't big enough for three!"

"She will not sleep in my room anymore, I have dismissed her," Emily replied, her features softening for a second when she glanced at her little brother, but when she looked back at Laurence, they hardened again.

"Let Jason decide where he wants to sleep," Laurence suggested, his voice sounding self-confident, but Temeraire knew him enough to suspect that this was only the surface – beneath that surface his captain was trembling, afraid he was losing his son already.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" Emily crossed her arms. "Oh, well, Jason, you may decide, but I am telling you, you had better get used to sleeping in my room again, as your father is going to leave England soon, never to return. You should start getting used to the thought _now_."

It was Jason's turn to go as white as a sheet. "Leave England? Never come back? But papa… papa, she can't be telling the truth! Papa, she _is_ lying again, is she not?"

Temeraire's heart went out to Laurence as his captain crouched down to the boy and said, "I am afraid not, Jason. I must leave soon."

"And leave me behind?" Jason muttered, tears glinting in his eyes.

Laurence's lips trembled as he replied, "I must."

The little boy shook his head. "So not only Emily is lying to me, but you too! Everyone always lies to me! I hate you!" With that he turned on his heels and ran away, towards the barracks.

"Jason! Jason!" Laurence called after him. "Mother… Edith… will you please excuse me…?" He bowed slightly and ran after the child.

"Oh, that was nasty," Iskierka remarked.

"Yes, very nasty," Temeraire agreed. "At least do not look so smug!" he snapped at Emily.

"Smug?" the young woman gave him a politely confused look. "I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about… and if you will pardon me now… I must visit my own dragon. My lady… Mrs. Woolvey… James…"

They all watched Emily stride away, and only after a minute of silence did Temeraire speak up, "I am sorry you had to witness this, my lady… they are constantly fighting, I am afraid."

"But… why?" Lady Allendale shook her head in disbelief. "I only met her once before, but she seemed such a good-natured child then…"

"Oh, well… she was. But that was before she lost her mother," Temeraire said, and saw Edith Woolvey gaze after Emily with a frown on her beautiful face. A frown, but some kind of understanding.

o

It took Laurence over a minute to catch up with Jason, which was quite remarkable, given that the boy was running on much shorter legs. Then again, Laurence was not getting any younger, he had to admit that to himself.

Panting, he took the boy by both shoulders, but Jason furiously struggled to break free. "Let go of me! Let go!" he shouted, but Laurence instead dropped to his knees and pulled the boy into a firm embrace that would not give Jason any space to move.

"Listen here, Jason," he said in a soothing voice, "I am sorry I did not tell you any sooner, I simply did not want to cause you any pain before it was absolutely necessary. I knew I would be causing you pain when I left, but I wanted to delay that as much as possible… because I wanted to see you happy as long as possible…"

Laurence was not sure Jason could understand everything he had said, however bright he was, but perhaps at least partly he had, because he suddenly replied, sniffing into his father's shoulder, "But I can't… I can't be happy without you, papa. Why do you have to leave at all?"

"It is the law, Jason," Laurence gently caressed the boy's soft hair. "I told you about the treason… I told you I was practically a prisoner, only not kept in chains… I was sent away to Australia to repent for my… sins there, and I will be sent back again, whether I like it or not."

"But…" Jason pulled back a bit, wiping his nose on his left sleeve, "you don't like it, do you?"

"Of course not," Laurence sighed, fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket. "Here, use this instead," he added with a small smile. "Son… you have understand… I know it is very hard… but you have to accept the fact that I am a convicted traitor and my life is not mine to do with it as I please… I made a decision when I took the cure over to France, and I knew I would have to bear its consequences as long as I live. At that time… I thought I was going to be hanged and it almost seemed… easy. But I was not hanged… and with you here, it is harder than you can imagine, for you mean so… so much to me. I have never loved anyone as much as you… perhaps only Temeraire. Had I known all those years ago that my treason would mean I would be separated from you, my son, I think my resolution would have wavered…"

"What does that mean?" Jason knitted his eyebrows.

"Oh… I am sorry…" Laurence said; sometimes he still forgot he was talking to a five-year-old. "It means… I might not have taken the cure over to France. I know it sounds selfish… very, very selfish, but… I love you too much to risk to be parted from you."

"I love you too, papa…" Jason sniffed, perhaps only half-understanding his father's words again, but the most important thing Laurence had wished to convey – that he loved Jason above all – he had apparently managed to convey. His heart fluttered at his son's words 'I love you, papa' – just a few weeks earlier he had not even imagined anyone would ever tell him these words. Nothing could compare to this joy, nothing… or perhaps only one thing could, but that would never happen: _Emily_ would never tell him she loved him.

"Will you write at least?" Jason asked, dabbing at his nose with the handkerchief this time.

"Every day," Laurence replied with a soft laugh, "and you will get so many letters that you will not even have time to read all!"

"Oh, but I will! And I will answer all of them!" the child said with a small smile.

"That is more like it," Laurence returned the boy's smile. "You are behaving very bravely, Jason. I am so proud of you."

"When will you leave, papa?"

"I do not know," the man shook his head. "It all depends on Temeraire and Iskierka and how quickly they manage an egg."

"Well then, I hope they never manage an egg!"

Laurence felt touched both by his son's loyalty and love and by his cleverness – Edith had been right: Jason was really exceptionally clever for a five-year-old, even if he could not understand expressions like 'wavering resolution'.

"And papa… what about my bed now? Where shall I sleep?"

Laurence reached out and gently wiped the remaining tears from his son's cheeks. "I suggest you sleep tonight in my room, and from tomorrow in Emily's. It is no use riling her, is there? Besides, it is only about the night, we can still spend our afternoons and early evenings together."

"And what about my bedtime stories? Emily never reads me any…"

"Then perhaps _you_ could read her some. You can have all my books with the tales, what do you say?"

"Sounds okay," the boy cocked his head, thinking. "Do you think Emily would like Cinderella? Or Snow White?"

"No," Laurence let out an involuntary laugh – he did not think she would enjoy a story about a girl who did housework all the time and dreamt of going to balls… nor about a princess who, upon arriving at the house of seven strangers, immediately set down to cleaning everything – no, Emily was not the girly type of girl. "Try Rumpelstiltskin instead," he suggested. "I am sure she would love to hear a story about a deceitful little imp who tries to take the child from the poor main character…"

"Do you really think so?" Jason gave him an innocent smile.

Laurence felt a tiny pang of remorse – of course his son was still too young to understand sarcasm, but a fairy tale was just a fairy tale, even if it contained a veiled message. "Yes, why not? But now, let us return to the others… your grandmother must be devastated to see you run away without so much as saying good-bye to her…"

"Oh… all right," Jason yawned, his eyelids drooping – no wonder, it was getting dark already. "Can you carry me back? I am so tired…"

Laurence's heart melted by the mere request, even if it was only due to the fatigue Jason had acquired in walking into town, chasing James, walking back and finally running away from him… Yes, even if it was just for this one time, Laurence felt touched, his boy had always proved too independent to ask for being carried.

By the time they reached back to Lady Allendale and the others, Jason was fast asleep, his head resting on his father's shoulder. From a distance Laurence spotted Emily talking to Excidium, and when she gave him a frown, he sent her as smug a look as he could muster. _Turnabout is fair play, Captain Roland…_

o

"Emily," Excidium said, his voice a little tentative, which surprised her – Excidium had never been the tentative type.

"Yes?" she asked, absent-mindedly stroking his muzzle.

"I saw the way Laurence looked at you when he walked by with Jason in his arms… and I also saw the way you looked at him. What is going on between you two, hmm?"

"What do you mean by that?" she looked away, deliberately avoiding his eyes.

"Emily, dear… I know you. Probably not as well as I knew Jane and my earlier captains, for you are much more introverted than they used to be, but… I know when something is wrong with you. And this 'something wrong' comes from that rascal Laurence, I see that too."

"Well, it is obvious, is it not?" Emily huffed. "I hate him because of what he did to my mother. Full stop."

"Is that all?"

Emily arched an eyebrow at the dragon. "What are you implying?"

Excidium once again looked uneasy, uncertain of himself, but he took a deep breath and said, "The day after the accident, he told me something peculiar."

Emily felt all the blood run out of her face. "_What_?"

"Well… when I asked him if he had not harmed you, he said he had not done anything to you that you had not liked… or that you had not asked for. And when I asked what this meant… he said I should ask you."

"Oh, the bastard, how dare he…?" Emily's hands balled into fists.

"But what did he do to you? Did he lie to me? Did he in fact harm you? If yes, he has _me _to answer to!"

"No," she hung her head. "The truth is… he did not harm me… at least not in a way that an aviator considers a harm. If I were an average girl and my only concern was to get married to some rich old man and keep my virtue until the wedding night, then yes… what he did to me _would be_ a harm, but… under the circumstances it is not… especially because… because…" she wrung her hands nervously, "I asked him to do it."

"But… what?"

Emily bit into her lower lip. "I asked him to mate with me, Excidium."

"WHAT?" the dragon bellowed.

"Shhhh!" she pressed her index finger to her lips. "This is a secret! Our secret!"

"Oh… all right," Excidium flattened himself to the ground with a guilty expression, "but… if you hate him so, so much as you claim to hate him, then… why did you ask him to…?"

"I don't really know… temporary madness, I think… and now I cannot even look him in the eye without remembering it, and it is so very humiliating! But the worst is not even the fact that I asked Laurence to add me to his trophies…"

"What then?"

"Excidium…" Emily said, her voice almost a whisper, "you must not tell anyone. You hear me, anyone!"

"But what, Emily?"

She took a deep breath and looked into the dragon's eyes. "He gave me an egg."

"NOT YOU TOO?" Excidium roared, only to be silenced by Emily pressing both of her tiny hands against his huge mouth.

"I said it was a secret, you big oaf, so be so kind and do not bellow!"

"Oh… I am sorry…" the dragon hung his head in shame. "I am just… too shaken by the news. I do not want to lose you too like I lost Jane…"

"You will not, my dear, you will not," Emily gently patted the dragon's muzzle.

"You promise?"

"I do," she nodded, and felt more self-confident than ever. "Mother was too old to bear a child and her late pregnancy took a toll on her body, weakened her so much that by the time she had to give birth, she did not have enough strength… not to mention that she went to battles till the end of her seventh month, something she definitely should not have done…"

"She said she could not be spared, we were at war," Excidium added sadly.

"Yes, I know. But we are not at war now, and this will not happen to _me_! I am young and strong and I will not let those bloody morning sicknesses leech my strength away, I will not let this egg interfere with my life in any way, and most important of all: I will not let _Laurence_ influence me! I don't give a damn about his love confession, it is all a big lie anyway, and…"

"Love confession?" Excidium interrupted.

Emily snorted. "Yeah, imagine that. When I woke up after three weeks, I found him at my bedside and he said he loved me. Well…" she straightened her back and put out her chin as she said, "I swear I will take away his lust to love me!"

oOo

The next morning everyone on the formation was shocked to see Emily appear on Excidium's back – everyone but Laurence.

"Do not be so very enthusiastic about my return," she said testily, her eyes scanning the crewmembers' faces.

"Well, we _are_ happy to know you are doing better," Captain Salyer said, "but did Admiral Little not want Captain Laurence to stay our leader for another week?"

"Little wanted Laurence to stay your leader _until I got well enough to return_, and here I am," Emily replied coldly. Laurence had the impression that she still looked paler than usual and there was some fatigue in her eyes, but she was struggling heroically to conceal it.

Soon the formation took off, but their murmurs of dissatisfaction did not abate even when they touched down for the lunch break several hours later, especially after Emily announced that she did not care for the new practices introduced by Laurence.

"But… Captain Roland," Captain Hawthorn spoke up, "the new methods proved to be really practical…"

"Practical?" Emily asked challengingly.

"Yes," Laurence took the word from Hawthorn, "the dragons did not tire at all when they helped us with the pit-digging. Even you have to admit that flying circles above England does not exhaust them too much, and if they help us, we can work much quicker and much more efficiently."

"Or perhaps you are just too lazy to follow _my_ practice," she grunted.

"It is not a matter of laziness but a matter of sense!" Laurence replied vehemently.

"Oh, well, if you have such an excess of energy that allows you to talk back, then perhaps your crew can take over the digging from now on," she said. "Every day of the week."

There was a hiss issuing from each and every one of Laurence's crew, making Emily's smug smile widen.

Something snapped in Laurence. "A word, Captain Roland," he said, and before she could have even protested, he took her by the arm and dragged her away from the others.

"Laurence! Let me go! What the hell do you think you're doing?" she snapped at him after a few seconds of shocked silence, but he would not reply and would not let her go until they reached out of earshot of the others. Finally, at least a hundred yards from the formation's temporary camp, under a handsome birch tree, he let go of her arm and lashed out at her: "Just what do you think _you_ are doing, Emily? Have you lost the last crumbs of your sense?"

"No, Laurence, it is you who has lost your sense, talking back to your superior!" she retorted, her eyes gleaming with fury.

"My superior!" he snorted. "Some superior you are, trying to preserve your authority through tormenting your subordinates!"

"I am not tormenting them, I am keeping discipline!"

"Discipline can be kept through humane treatment and justice, with only occasional punishment when absolutely necessary and unavoidable, but you are punishing everyone, every day, just because you are bitter and want everyone else to be equally bitter, but let me tell you, you have no right to punish the whole world just because you are unhappy, especially because the rest of the world does not deserve to be punished! It is _me_ you want to see suffering, so torment me, but leave them alone!"

Emily gave him a long, searching look, then, with lips pressed tightly together, she nodded. "All right." She beckoned to him to follow her back to the camp, and as soon as they got there, she announced, as loudly as she could without shouting, "You are in luck, gentlemen, Captain Laurence has just volunteered to dig and fill in the pits all by himself. Every. Single. Day. Give him a round of applause, such heroism definitely deserves it!"

But there was no applause, only shocked silence.

"Captain Higgs," Laurence turned to the handler of the Parnassian Cepheus, "may I have one of the spades, please?"

"But Laurence…!" Temeraire began, only to be silenced by a wave of his captain's hand.

"No, my dear. No protests. I have asked for it myself."

Half an hour later, however, he was no longer thinking he had asked for it himself – he could not even think properly, all his muscles were aching horribly, he had tried to dig so fast – he had, after all, to dig a pit of around ten cubic metres all by himself in less than half an hour, an impossible feat. His body was drenched in sweat and here and there speckled with dirt, and it took him great effort to not stumble into the pit after it had been used by the dragons.

"The half hour is long up," Emily said with a disapproving face as she walked past him. Laurence was kneeling by the pit, having mostly filled it in, leaning on the spade and gasping for breath. "I am sorry but we have to move on… apparently you have not had time to have lunch yourself… well, perhaps you can on Temeraire's back, although, I seem to remember from the good old days that you did not like to eat when you were aloft… You will have to get used to it, _or_ dig quicker next time. It is your choice, Captain."

Laurence glanced up at her from under knitted eyebrows.

"Oh, if looks could kill…" she smirked, leaning a bit closer to him so that no one but him would hear her following words, "do tell, Laurence, do you _still_ love me?"

He merely gave her a piercing stare then looked away, and she left with a small laugh.

Hawthorn, gathering his things from under a nearby tree, stepped to Laurence and offered him a hand to pull him up, which Laurence gladly accepted. "Man," Hawthorn said, tutting, "what the hell did you do to rile her so? Besides getting her mother pregnant, I mean…?"

Pulling on his shirt, Laurence sourly replied, "Besides that? Nothing that _she_ has not asked for."

oOo

"Iskierka, I have been thinking."

"Thinking? Did it give you a bad headache?"

"Very funny," Temeraire replied. "But are you not even curious what I have been thinking about?"

"Not really," she yawned.

"Well, I am sure you _will be_ interested once you hear it," Temeraire straightened his back. "I think we should have that egg, the sooner the better."

"Have you got sunstroke, or what?" she asked. "Just yesterday you were going on about the necessity of delaying the egg-making, and now you are telling me the opposite?"

"I have a very good reason to," he said grumpily.

"And that is…?"

"If we do not make that egg and Laurence and I do not leave quickly, Emily is going to kill him."

"Kill him?" her yellow eyes widened.

"Yes," he replied heavily. "You should have seen them today… she made him dig the whole necessary pit all by himself and fill it in all by himself, and he has to do that every single day from now on! Alone! He was like a rag doll when he sat back on me, he barely had the strength to strap himself in! If it continues like this, he _is _going to die. And I am not letting that happen. Either we make this egg quickly or I go to the admiral myself and raise a complaint against that little witch."

"You mean _b_itch," Iskierka corrected him.

"Hmm… yes, I meant that," Temeraire said sourly. "So, what do you say?"

"Do not go to the admiral. That captain of yours is a proud man, I doubt if he would appreciate it much if you went behind his back and defended him against a slip of a girl like Roland… I suggest we mate instead."

Temeraire gave her a smouldering look. "I accept."

"But… I still get your talon-sheaths! All ten of them!"

"All right, all right, you do… you have worked for six of them already, and I know it would look absolutely stupid on you if you only wore six out of ten…"

"Finally I hear some sense coming from you," she sighed contentedly. "All right, old boy, I am all yours. Do with me whatever you like."

oOo

"I hope every captain is here," Little said in his office – a spacious room now crammed with people. Laurence stood at the back, leaning against the wall by the door – after his little digging adventure he barely had the strength to keep himself upright and not even a nice hot bath had managed to ease the ache in his muscles, but of course he would not show it to Emily – he had more dignity than that. If she had decided to take revenge on him for what had happened between them in the tunnel – which had been, naturally, _her _idea – then the least he could do was not give her the satisfaction to see him defeated.

Every fibre of his being rebelled against the way she treated him, for it was long past the original resentment – or hatred? – she must have felt for him when he had returned to England almost seven weeks earlier. This was also more than the petulance of a child who had been forced to grow up too quick while most of her soul had been trapped in childhood… This was the blood-thirst of a woman with a hurt dignity, a dignity that she herself had willingly exposed to harm and now she was mad at him for having acted like a gentleman and fulfilled her 'last wish'. It was not his fault that they had become intimate, and if someone could be blamed for it, then it was she, and she knew it just as well as he did, but she was apparently angry, practically seething at the idea of taking the blame.

He had somehow managed to justify her hatred of him upon his return, but her current hatred that had apparently multiplied since their tunnel affair was something he could not and would not feel justified, ever. And yet, when she had so nastily asked him whether he still loved her, he had to bite back the reply 'I only wish I did not'.

Love was truly blind, unreasonable and had a cruel sense of humour.

"As you all know, I have just returned from London," Little carried on, "where I visited the Duke of Wellington. He gave us a task, gentlemen, and we should feel honoured that we, at the Dover covert have received the commission instead of those at the London one. Of course it would have been more convenient for Wellington to ask them at the London covert, but apparently he trusts us here better…"

"Or trusts _you_ better, Admiral," someone murmured and the room was filled with barely suppressed chuckles. Laurence knew that most aviators still thought Little was not fit to be admiral, even if he had saved Wellington's life at Waterloo.

Little knitted his eyebrows and pretended not to have heard the snide remark. "Well then… some of you might know that there are going to be celebrations in London on the 18th June, at the opening ceremony of Waterloo Bridge. As I have learned from the Duke, it was the Prince Regent's idea to… how to put it… boost the celebrations a bit with an aerial parade, something unseen in England before, and we have been asked to provide seven dragons and a well-designed flight-choreography."

"What?" Laurence heard Emily Roland's voice. "Does the Prince Regent expect us to play flying circus? How humiliating…"

"Good that you have spoken, Captain Roland," Little replied, "and I am glad to see you up and about, for it means we can count on Excidium's experience. As a matter of fact, I am placing the operation in your hands. Choose your dragons, design the choreography – I am sure a woman with a little taste can do it much better than any man could. Oh, and also appoint five other dragons for security duty for the duration of the ceremony. You can start right tomorrow morning. I suggest you choose the best fliers, the most agile ones, but I trust your judgement on that. Naturally the dragons taking part in the parade will be exempted from patrol duty during their preparations for the big day. You have three weeks, Captain Roland, good luck!"

Laurence heard Emily utter a firm "Yes, sir", but her face was grim as she pushed across the queue of captains and strode past him without even noticing him. He could easily guess she was far from happy about her new assignment, but her face had also revealed some pride – she had never been asked to perform anything before the King or even the Prince Regent, who, based on the news of the King's health condition, was very close to becoming king himself.

Laurence, unlike others in the room, was not overly surprised by the Prince Regent's idea to hold an aerial parade – the prince had always been a famed lover of earthly pleasures; making up entertainments such as this perfectly fit his character.

o

Before dinner Laurence had Jason's bed carried over to Emily's room, and after dinner he escorted his son to his sister. Upon entering with Jason, he established that Emily looked even paler and sicklier than in the morning. He tried to put it down to her nervousness about this unpleasant new assignment and not to her prolonged illness. He could not however ignore the slightly sour smell of vomit lingering on the air – she had opened the window and most of it must have left already, but it was still unmistakable.

She gave him a dark look as she took Jason's things from him, and despite his earlier resolution of pretending he had not even noticed her presence, Laurence blurted out on an instinct, "Can we talk? Outside?"

Emily dropped Jason's bag with his clothes on the boy's bed and walked out without a word, closing the door behind her. "What do you want? I thought I made myself clear in the lunch break, or do you wish for more?"

Laurence sighed, relieved to find the corridor deserted – this was once again going to be a discussion that would be awkward to be overheard. "No, I do not wish for more, your message was perfectly clear, Captain Roland… I just wanted to say you could have and _should have_ told Little you did not feel up to this task, I am sure he would have understood."

"I do feel up to it," she replied with arms crossed defensively. "I am perfectly healthy…"

"Yes? Then why do I have the feeling you have just thrown up?" he asked challengingly. "You are not yet healthy and you only keep pretending to be healthy to have a chance to slight me, it is your pathetic little revenge, is it not?"

"Revenge?" she let out a shrill laugh. "Do not think I am doing it because of _you_! Do not think you are the centre of the universe, Laurence! You are not nearly as important as you believe yourself to be, and my decision to work again has nothing to do with you or any sort of revenge…"

"Then pray go to Little and tell him you are rejecting the assignment! If your coming back to work is not about wanting to torture me, then go back to rest! Do not risk your health, Emily!"

"Captain Roland, for the hundredth time, Laurence!" she snapped. "And I do not go back to rest! I see through you, don't think I do not, I see you want to take away the chance from me to do something grand in this assignment and earn some acknowledgement, but guess what? No one is going to take this chance from me! And do not come with this pretence of worry for my health, will you?"

Laurence's hands balled into fists, but he fought back the urge to shout. His voice was calm and unwavering as he replied, "It is no pretence. I am truly worried, for even if you do not believe it, I still love you. You were right when you said you did not deserve it – you do not deserve a morsel of my love, but still you have it, whether I want you to have it or not."

"Well, it is obvious you don't want me to have it, and tell you what, I do not need it either, you can keep your pathetic love for all I care! Do not get delusions, Laurence, do not entertain the hope that I will ever return your feelings, and forget, forget, forget about that bloody tunnel incident… please!"

He was almost shocked to hear the word 'please' from her mouth. She must indeed be desperate to be rid of him if she went so far as to beseech him. "All right," he nodded. "I shall try to forget about it… although I wish it had never happened in the first place. If it had not, you obviously would not hate me _this much_. I know it is only a matter of dignity, and for the sake of your dignity I am willing to forget it happened, as I am sure so are you. But before we forget about it for good, you must know one thing," he went on, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "I would never have consented to lie with you if we had not thought we were going to die."

"If we had not thought we were going to die, I sure as hell would never have asked for it!" she retorted.

Before Laurence could have replied, the door of Emily's room opened and Jason's scared little face appeared in the doorframe "Why are you shouting at each other?" he asked in a small voice. "Why do you dislike each other so much? Or is it only you, Emily, who dislikes papa? Because I heard papa say he loved you… why can't you too love papa? And what does it mean papa lay with you?"

"Er…" Laurence blushed to the roots of his hair, and as his eyes met Emily's, he saw that she had too. "Jason… son… this is an adult thing and you will understand once you are old enough…"

"This is always what you keep telling me!" Jason complained. "That I have to wait to know things until I am grown, but I am not stupid! I could understand it now if you only told me!"

"Jason…" it was Emily's turn to talk to the boy in a soft, soothing voice. "Of course you are not stupid… you are a very clever boy… but this is still something between your father and me and it does not concern anyone else, you must understand that."

"But it does concern me!" Jason protested, once more proving wise beyond his years. "Because I love you both and I don't want to see you fight!"

The two adults looked at each other again, their eyes not full of hatred or contempt or fury this time, but full of worry and shame.

"What do you say, Captain Roland… could we reach a cease-fire… for Jason's sake?" Laurence offered.

Emily curtly nodded. "Perhaps. But do not get complacent, Laurence. I am only doing it for Jason. Only for him."

"All right, then," the child said brightly, "and now, shake hands!"

They hesitated, and it was once again Laurence who acted first – he held out his hand towards her, which she touched for a brief moment, then pulled back her hand as though it had been burned.

"Come, Jason, it is time for you to sleep," Emily said, turning on her heels and marching into her room.

"Good night, papa!" Jason said, and Laurence barely had time to reply "Good night, son", before Emily slammed the door shut in his face.

As he stared at the closed door, separating him from the two loves of his life, he did not know what to make of the situation. His palm still tingled from her touch, and he flexed his fingers, reminding himself not to get carried away with emotions. It was only a temporary cease-fire, something that might end by the next morning, something Emily might not even have meant and had possibly only pretended to accept in order to stay in Jason's good books.

With a sigh, he turned away from the door and walked down the corridor in the hope of spending the night with Temeraire, but as he turned a corner, he almost frontally clashed into Granby and Edith Woolvey.

"Oh, Laurence, we've been looking for you everywhere," Granby said. "This gentlewoman I met at the covert gates, she said she needed to talk to you, so I volunteered to help her find you…"

"Very gallant of you, John," Laurence nodded in the other man's direction, indicating that his 'gallant services' were no longer required.

"My lady," Granby bowed towards Edith, "it's been a pleasure." He winked at Laurence in an unabashed way, and strolled away.

"Edith… to what do I owe the honour of your visit?"

Her cheeks reddened slightly as she said, "Can we go somewhere private… to talk?"

"Of course… we could have a walk on the grounds, I know paths that avoid the dragon clearings, and…"

"I would prefer perfect privacy. Your room, perhaps?"

"Uh…" he swallowed the lump that had all of a sudden grown in his throat. "Of course. If you wish… we could have tea…"

"I am not here to drink, Will," she said plainly, and Laurence once more belatedly realised she was expecting him to offer her his arm. He had been too long away from proper civilisation and fine ladies, and even if old habits die hard, some at least tend to become rusty with time. He quickly corrected his mistake and held out his arm to her, which she gladly accepted.

Laurence did not remember when he had last been as bashful about being alone in a room with a woman as he was now – probably the last time had been that night in Jane's room almost twelve years earlier – the night she had first slept with him. But that one had still been somewhat different – it had been Jane's room, now it was his, and Jane had been an aviator, a mother of a natural-born child, not exactly a respectable woman. Edith was a fine lady, perfectly respectable, and a widow. She should not even enter his room let alone without escort!

Edith, however, did not seem to care for propriety. As soon as he shut the door behind them, she turned to him, and only then did he notice that there were tears glinting in her eyes.

"Edith, what happened?" he breathed. "Has someone hurt you?"

She shook her head with a small, sad smile. "No, Will. I am just here to say good-bye. There has been a change of plans… the ship sails in two days, much earlier than we expected it to. Tomorrow is going to be all about last minute packing… this was my last chance to see you."

He felt his throat close – he had never in his wildest dreams thought Edith Galman – Woolvey – would consider it one of her priorities to visit him of all people before she left England for good. "Edith, I…"

She, however, pressed her index finger on his lips. "Do not say anything. You need not talk… let me do the talking instead." She heaved a sigh, as though preparing herself for something great and important. When she spoke up again, her voice was devoid of the earlier waver, it was clear and firm and determined. "The other day in Aunt Margaret's house I told you the truth… I had a great life with Bertram, but he could never compare to you. You have been the only man I ever really loved, and since I was not sure I managed to convey this last time… I had to come to tell you. I simply could not leave without telling you how I felt. Will… I still love you."

"Edith… please, do not…"

"But I have to," she sniffed, not bothering to wipe her tears. "I thought I was long over you, I thought I had managed to forget you, but when I met your mother by accident and she said you were here, so close… I just had to see you. And when I saw you again, I knew at once that my love for you never died." She let out a small, nervous laugh. "There, I have said it. I do not expect you to say anything… I do not expect you to love me in return… all I ask for is one last kiss. A good-bye kiss."

Laurence was overwhelmed: Edith still loved him, after all these years! How many times had he tried to convince himself that he had made the right decision in leaving the Navy for the Corps, and even though he still knew he could not have made a different decision and if he were once again landed in the same situation, with a choice between the Navy with Edith as his wife, and the Corps with no family, he knew he still would choose the Corps _and_ Temeraire… but his choice would be much more painful now. Much harder to make.

As she looked at him expectantly, her pale blue eyes veiled with tears, he once again felt the way he had in Aunt Margaret's house, that he was the same thirteen-year-old boy who had promised a nine-year-old girl to marry her some day.

'_My feelings have not altered with my circumstances. If yours have, you need merely say a word to silence me,'_ he had said all those years ago at the breakfast table at Wollaton Hall, and he wished he could tell her the same now, to tell her he loved her just as much as she loved him… but he could not. _His_ feelings _had_ changed. He had loved her long enough after her rejection, but now his heart belonged to Emily Roland – the nasty, undeserving little tom-boy… and yet, he could not bring himself to deny Edith the good-bye kiss. She deserved it.

As their lips met, he felt the saltiness of tears on hers, and he wanted to pull back after a moment, but her lips were more demanding than to let him go, her arms wound around his neck, her chest pressed up to his. Something at the back of his mind called alert, but he tried not to pay it any attention, at least until he felt Edith tug at his neckcloth to untie it.

Panting, he drew back. "Edith… what are we doing?"

"Saying… good-bye?" she asked, her smile happier and less tearful now.

"Edith… I am… deeply honoured, but… I cannot do this."

"Why not?" she placed her right hand over his heart and he knew she felt the frantic beating beneath his cloak.

"I… I made a mistake… years ago. I got a gentlewoman in trouble… and she died, at least partly because of my carelessness. Edith…" he lifted her hand to his lips, "I am not making the same mistake over again."

"No, of course not," she shook her head.

"Of course not?" he knitted his eyebrows. But… had she not wanted him to…? Had he so misunderstood her intentions…?

"No," she said in a slightly bitter tone. "You cannot get me in trouble. No one can."

Laurence shook his head. "I do not understand."

Edith once again pressed herself up to him, bending her head on his shoulder. "When James was born," she muttered into the lapel of his cloak, "something went wrong. The doctor said I was never going to be able to bear a child again."

"Oh…" he breathed into her cinnamon-scented locks. "I am so sorry."

"Do not be," she sighed, pulling back a bit and looking deeply into his eyes. "We are safe, Will. Perfectly safe."

"Still…" he blushed, a last attempt at gentlemanly behaviour, "I fear… I could not perform really well tonight… I am too tired for that. I would only disappoint."

She shook her head. "The only time you disappointed me was when you chose a dragon over me and still expected me to marry you… But that was a long time ago. You could not disappoint me again in any respect, not even with the knowledge that you do not love me anymore… I think I love you enough for both of us. Just let me show how much I do, and do not worry about the rest."

For a fleeting moment Emily's face flashed into his mind, her cheeks rosy, her eyes closed, the epitome of angelic innocence as she had lain in his arms on the tunnel floor… but this imaginary Emily suddenly opened her eyes and lashed out at him, _'You can keep your pathetic love for all I care! Do not get delusions, Laurence, do not entertain the hope that I will ever return your feelings…'_

He suppressed a sigh. Emily really did not deserve his love and he owed her nothing, nothing at all. Not even faithfulness. Had she been just a tad nicer to him this evening, he would probably beg for Edith's forgiveness now and ask her to leave. But this way… he would not send her away.

Pushing Emily Roland out of his mind and ignoring the protests of all his aching muscles, Laurence's lips hungrily descended on Edith's.

oOo

**A/N: **Told you this chapter was going to be cruel… XD

I might post another chapter before Christmas, but I'm not sure. December is always the most hectic month of the year for me at my workplace – it's my task to play all of Santa's elves, you know, preparing hundreds of Christmas packages for partners… God, how I hate it!

Anyway, one story I will be sure to post before the holidays, a one-shot Christmas sequel to _Stays in the Family_.** Keep a look-out for the fanfic titled **_**The Greatest Gift**_**, coming soon! Also, in the meantime, if you haven't done so yet, be sure to read my most recent one-shot, **_**Caught in the Act**_**, told from Tharkay's PoV!**

**And review this chapter, please! :)**

o

**Historical (and various) notes:**

1. Grimm's Fairy Tales were first published in 1812 in German, but I have not managed to find any information on when it was first published in English, so I imagined that the book was quite quickly translated into English so that Jason could already read it in 1817.

2. Waterloo Bridge was indeed opened on the 18th June, 1817. Sadly I did not find any information on celebrations held around the bridge, but as the Temeraire universe already has lots of AU history elements, we can imagine that there indeed were celebrations.

(source: wikipedia)


	12. The Same Mistake Twice

**A/N: Happy New Year, everyone!**

_T2238_: you have a point there… originally I didn't want to dwell on Excidium's views, but after reading your review, I decided to at least mention it. :)

_HeWhoReviews_: yes, obviously this story isn't for young children, but I gave a warning at the beginning of the first chapter that this fic was going to be a strong T-rated one. After that everyone may read at their own peril. But seriously, I don't think there's anything harmful in here. :) As for LaurEmily – you are quite wrong, I do have lots of unused plots in my head, but there isn't much of a chance that I will write most of them. I've run out (or will soon run out) of the 'writable' LaurEmily plots, for the rest are too absurd or too perverted, so I will just keep playing with them in my dirty little mind and will not share them with you guys. XD About a non-LaurEmily fic: perhaps. I might write one if I get a good idea for one. If not sooner, than surely after book six (meaning next summer… that's still soooooo far away!)

_Nimbus Llewelyn_: "burn"? What? I'm sorry, I'm not following you. As to your other reviews on my various other fics (since I have no other way or place to reply to them): you are wrong about that biblical reference. You said "you can't have sex with a woman and then her daughter", but the Bible says in Leviticus 20:14, "If a man marries both a woman and her mother, it is wicked." But Laurence never married Jane, and he most definitely did not have sex with both women at the same time. As for a possible third fic in my Artemis Fowl series: I'm sorry, but no. However, if the seventh book (titled The Atlantis Complex, coming out August 2010) inspires me enough, I might write a new AF fic. I might. Probably. Though I must admit I'm much more anxious about Temeraire 6 than Artemis Fowl 7…

**Chapter 12**

**The Same Mistake Twice**

"So," Edith chuckled, "if this is how you perform when you are overly tired, then I do not dare imagine how you do when you are full of energy."

Laurence felt himself blush and deliberately avoided her eyes, inspecting the cracks on the ceiling instead. For some reason he was grateful to her for not cuddling up to him but lying next to him instead, not an inch of their bodies touching – this way he could almost pretend it had not happened. Not that it had been unpleasant, not physically, but he felt ashamed of it, nevertheless. He felt he had used Edith, used her love, her vulnerability, her sadness over their parting, in order to help himself forget about Emily.

"I always liked the way you blushed," she carried on, undaunted by his lack of response. "You used to blush a lot even as a child, whether you were insulted or praised… And I meant this as the most honest praise, Will. I have… never felt like this. I have never known bliss. Not until tonight."

Shocked, Laurence turned his head to look at her and found her biting her lower lip, her cheeks glowing red. "You… never…?"

She shook her head. "Bertram… bless him… tried. He really tried, but… he did not succeed, no matter how much he tried. And it is ironic that you succeeded, even if you did not really try."

Laurence felt his throat close. "What… what makes you think I did not…?"

"Oh, Will… I know you enough to notice that your heart was not in it," she replied with a sad smile. "But I did not even expect it to be… I knew your heart belonged to another."

"How did you know?" he whispered, too ashamed to talk aloud.

"I saw it in your eyes… the other day on the covert grounds. The way you looked at that feisty little captain… you used to look at _me_ like that... many, many years ago. Besides… among the many 'Edith's you have just murmured into my ears, there was one accidental 'Emily'. You can't have noticed…"

"O God…" Laurence covered his face with both hands. If he had felt ashamed before, it had been nothing, nothing compared to what he felt now. "I am so sorry, Edith."

"Do not be." She squeezed his arm reassuringly. "I am not blaming you. You have moved on… lucky you."

"Lucky me?" he let out a small, sarcastic laugh. "I would be lucky if she were only… _neutral_ towards me… I would not place my hopes so high to expect her to _love _me, but even neutrality is too great a thing to wish for. She hates me with all her heart."

"Honestly, Will, do you _really_ think she does?" Edith asked, a chiding edge to her voice.

"What else could I think? She keeps humiliating me, tries to take Jason away from me, shouts at me… she nearly shot me too. Of course she hates me." _But does she?_ A little voice in his mind reminded him that while unconscious Emily _had_ said 'Laurence, I love you', but that had happened too long ago and felt coming from a dream… probably it had not even been true.

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Edith rolled her eyes. "How can men be so… simple-minded?"

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Simple-minded?"

She nodded. "She likes you. Perhaps even loves you. I saw it quite clearly when she talked to you. Yes, her words were full of venom, but her eyes told a different story. Perhaps she is hiding behind a mask of cruelty to conceal her true feelings."

"Only women can think in such an overcomplicated way," he replied with a small riposte.

"Yes, we are too complicated beings for the simple-minded males to understand," Edith chuckled. "But I meant it, Will. She does not hate you. Or even if she does, she also loves you."

"How could she love and hate me at the same time?" he frowned. Women indeed were too difficult to understand…

"She can love you and hate you the same way _I_ used to," Edith replied quietly, tears glinting in her eyes. "Yes, Will… for a short time after we last met at Wollaton Hall, I hated you… _because _I loved you so much. I know…" she added with a nervous little laugh, "it is too hard to understand… but I still loved you and hated you at the same time. Of course, my hatred did not last long. Hers might last longer… but love always wins in the end. Do not give up on her."

Laurence ran a hand across his tousled locks. "But I have to… whether she likes me in any way or not. I am leaving for Australia soon. There is no point in starting a relationship here now… not if I would only hurt her when I left… _If _my departure would hurt her at all. But more likely she would be jumping for joy to see my ship sail out at last."

"Defeatist," Edith sighed, propping herself on her elbow. "I do not want to hear that sort of talk from you, Will Laurence! You will fight for her… like you never did for me." Tears were now freely flowing down her cheeks. "Promise me that you will."

"Edith… dear Edith," he reached out and gently wiped her tears. "I would… if I could. But the law is the law. I am a convict. My home is now New South Wales. Emily's is England. This would not be like it could have been for us… for you and me. I could not return to her from a long voyage like I could have returned to you."

"I know you cannot… but at least let her know how you feel… and perhaps then she too will let you know how _she_ feels."

Laurence shook his head resignedly. "I have already told her I loved her and she practically spat me in the face… Besides… even if she, by some wonder, loved me… would it be worth it? Confessing our love, then parting for ever?"

"Would it be not worse to part with her forever thinking you parted in lie and hatred?" Edith countered. "The truth can hurt, Will… but never as much as a lie can."

Laurence stared deeply into her eyes, too confused to even comprehend what was happening to him. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined to have a conversation like this with his first love, about his second love. Especially not in bed, not after having been intimate with her, and not in a way that made him think that their discussion was much more intimate than their earlier activities had been.

For years and years he had dreamed of marrying this woman and making love to her, and now, when the latter had happened, he felt nothing of the satisfaction he had expected to feel – he felt even less attached to her than he had had to Jane, and it made him feel ashamed. And she, proving to be wiser and more understanding than he had ever given her credit for, was not hurt or jealous. She was a good friend. A friend whom he had always only caused pain.

"I do not deserve your love, Edith," he whispered.

"Do not think you do not," she caressed the side of his face. "It is not your fault your feelings have changed. But… if you want to be a little more deserving of my love… then you probably could."

"How?" he sat up, eager to find out whichever way he could make good at least part of the sins he had committed against her. Edith, however, gently pushed him back on the pillow and kissed him, murmuring, "This way."

oOo

Her churning stomach had woken up Emily early that day, and even if she managed to avoid vomiting, she felt she badly needed some fresh air to chase away any lingering sensation of nausea.

The covert grounds were still deserted, the sun had not yet risen, and a blanket of fog had crept in from the Channel overnight. The trees stood like grey sentinels in the sea of whitish mist, and the backs of the larger dragons sleeping curled on the ground seemed like smaller hills with their bottoms invisible.

Emily took deep breaths – fresh air indeed helped her fight down any urge to throw up, and for the time being she felt in peace, as though the fog surrounding her had had the ability to shield her from all the pains of the world.

She could not see much further than three yards, but she saw that the grass was dewy under her feet. For a moment she wished the fog would disperse and the sun would shine, its early rays making the drew drops gleam gold. But if the fog dispersed, she would be exposed again – exposed to harm, exposed to pain. Perhaps it was better to stay in the fog, after all…

Amidst the chirping of the freshly awoken birds, her thoughts drifted to the earlier day, to the look Laurence had given her when she had asked him during the lunch break whether he still loved her, and with regret she had to admit that the memory made her heart ache. She hated herself for having treated him like that, but also hated herself for regretting what she had done, for she simply had had to do it. She had to be strong and unrelenting, she had to protect herself, even by launching an offensive if needed. She had to attack first, not to _be_ _attacked_.

She had been a victim too long. She no longer would be. Even if she had to hurt him, and even if hurting him gave her terrible pangs of remorse, she would not let him ruin her life again. If she had to chase him away, scare him away to protect herself, then she would. For both their sakes.

Leaning against a tree, Emily wondered why she had softened towards him at all. Could it be the fact that he had _not_ said 'no' when she had so derisively asked him if he still loved her? Could it be the fact that she had, albeit fleetingly, shaken his hand to seal their 'cease-fire'? Or could it be the changes that were already happening in her body? Was she getting over-sensitive, so soon?

Emily shook her head. She did not want to be soft, and the pangs of remorse she had felt for him were undoubtedly a sign of going soft. She had promised Jason a cease-fire, but was it wise to keep it when the integrity of her soul was at stake?

She was too confused to be able to answer her own question, and the reason for her confusion was Laurence, as always, damn him! How could he, after so many years of her considering him her sworn enemy, still make her feel weak in the knees and want to kiss him instead of shoot him?

She sniffed, and only then did she realise that she had once again started to weep. _Oh, blasted pregnancy, I am becoming over-emotional already!_

Something snapped not far from her, a telltale sign of someone treading on a fallen twig, and in the next instant she heard the steps too, although she could not see the person approaching.

"Really, you need not escort me back," a female voice said, completely unfamiliar to Emily, but the male voice was more than familiar as it replied, "Edith, pray do not expect me to let you wander alone on the streets of Dover before sunrise, it was too bold of you to even come here in the evening all by yourself…"

"Will," the female voice said with a laugh, "would it not have been a little awkward if I had not come alone?"

"Edith, please do not make me blush again," the man's voice replied, but it was getting weaker as they were reaching out of earshot.

"Why not? No one can see you blush in the fog…"

The sound of their steps died away, and Emily found herself shaking, tears spilling down her cheeks, and in the next instant she was heaving, her efforts of keeping her food down overpowered by shock and misery. _Edith Woolvey… of course! I should have known they were lovers when she was hanging on his arm like that!_

Clutching at the tree trunk for support, she screwed her eyes shut, and the other woman's face appeared before her, the delicate features, the porcelain skin, all the goddamn perfection that Emily could never hope to possess… but she realised with surprise that she did not hate Edith Woolvey. She could only hate Laurence. After all, Edith was just another victim of his. Just another trophy. She could only feel sorry for Edith, as for any woman who ever landed or would land in his bed.

"Damn you, Laurence," she muttered, stumbling in a gnarled root of a tree as she headed back towards the barracks. If she had softened towards him the previous day, now she had hardened again, hardened enough to take up the gauntlet, and to hell with the cease-fire!

By the time she reached back to the building, most of the fog had dispersed and the sun bathed the grounds in its golden rays.

Emily's heart did not lift at all with the sunshine. Sometimes it was indeed better to stay in the fog… and not see clearly.

She sniffed once more before entering the building, then, putting out her chin, she marched in and up the stairs. No accursed Will Laurence would weaken her! Ever! Not even if Jason would have to suffer because of their fighting… Jason was a child, young and flexible. He would get over it.

Contented to think that she would not give up the fight, she entered her room. The war was not over yet.

oOo

"Roland, a word, if you please," Admiral Little stopped Emily on the corridor before she could enter the dining room for breakfast. "In my office."

She followed him without a word.

In the office, Little beckoned her to take a seat. "Tea?"

"No, thank you."

"All right." Little sat down, elegantly clasping his hands on the table surface. "I must tell you that you look a fright, Captain."

"Do I?" she asked, pretending to be surprised, although she was not in the least surprised – she had seen her mirror image after her early morning walk, and had established that she was sickly pale with dark shadows under her eyes, not to mention that her cheekbones stood out sharper than ever – she must have lost at least a stone in weight during her illness, and she expected to lose more if the 'blessings' of pregnancy continued to harass her any longer.

"You do, and you obviously know that," Little replied. "Yesterday evening you looked better, that was why I felt encouraged to give you the assignment, but today I am no longer sure. If you do not feel up to the task, feel free to decline it. I shall find someone else to conduct the parade… Harcourt, for example. A female by all means, for this definitely needs a woman's touch."

"I beg your pardon, Admiral, but I _do_ feel up to the task," Emily protested. The previous evening even Excidium had tried to talk her out of taking on the assignment out of concern for her health, but she had convinced him that he had nothing to worry about. It riled her that now she even had to convince Little. But she _would_ convince him, if that was the last thing she ever did. There was no way she would let such a brilliant opportunity to show her leadership skills to the world slip through her fingers, especially because _Harcourt_ would surely give Temeraire a role in the parade, thus giving _Laurence_ a chance to prevail!

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Admiral. You can count on me. If you would only say a word at breakfast so that all captains with their dragons would gather on the grounds near Excidium's clearing to enable me to choose from them, I would be much obliged."

Little nodded. "So be it. Just one more question, Roland… Weeks and weeks ago I heard Laurence's report about that unfortunate cliff-accident. I would like to hear yours too."

Emily's insides squirmed – this was her chance to discredit Laurence. She could tell a lie, she could say he had tried to hurt her, she could even claim he had outraged her… but that would result in Little, and soon everyone, knowing that her child was Laurence's, which she wanted to avoid by all means.

It would be best if Laurence left England not knowing she was pregnant at all, and Emily doubted that anyone in England would find it important to mention to him in a letter that she had given birth – anyone but Jason, that is... and perhaps she could convince even Jason to not mention it to his father. She did not yet know how, but she still had time to devise a plan for that.

No, Emily was not unduly concerned that any of the aviators would want to let Laurence of all people know; after all, no one had the slightest idea of what had happened between them in the tunnel, and everyone thought they disliked each other… which was, of course, true. After this morning's incident, Emily could not believe his claim to love her – a man in love would not cheat on his beloved, would he? No, she thought bitterly, he did not love her, and she certainly did not love him! Even if there had been tiny sparks of positive feelings for him in her heart, they had been extinguished upon learning that he had spent the night with Edith Woolvey.

Nothing remained, but to tell Little the truth. If she wanted to find a means to discredit Laurence, she would have to find another. "It was an unfortunate accident, Admiral. We were having an argument and I shot my pistol by mistake. Not at him, of course… at the cliffs. And the cliffs came tumbling down on us, shutting us in an old, caved-in tunnel. The dragons saved us from drowning in the tide, but I do not remember much of the rescue, and I was half-dead with cold, and a falling stone even hit me on the head. That is all I can tell about it."

Little nodded. "The same as what Laurence said. I am glad that neither of you tried to lie, even if you… dislike each other so much."

"May I go now, Admiral? I am starving," Emily said just as her stomach gave a painful rumble. She could only hope she would be able to keep her breakfast down.

oOo

Temeraire was very excited by the prospect of finally doing something more interesting than just patrolling and mating – even if the latter he found quite enjoyable, especially after six weeks of only imitating it.

"Do you think she will choose us?" he murmured to Laurence as they trotted towards Excidium's clearing.

"I do not know, my dear," Laurence shook his head, "but pray do not get your hopes up… it is Emily, after all… and even if you are a brilliant flyer, it is not at all sure she would choose _you_, as long as she hates _me_,your captain. I am sorry, Temeraire, but you have to be prepared for being slighted by her… because of me."

"Oh, Laurence, if she slights you, then she should slight me too, for we are a team, inseparable. And if she does not want you, then she had better not want me for anything either."

Laurence gave his dragon a grateful smile, but Temeraire could see the self-accusation behind that smile. He wished he could somehow make Laurence understand that not being chosen for the parade would not hurt him as much as the knowledge that the rejection was actually aimed at his beloved captain.

Soon dragons and captains gathered on Excidium's large clearing and the smaller neighbouring clearings, waiting for Captain Roland's verdict.

Iskierka drew herself upright, looking smug. "I am sure she will choose me, for I am the most impressive dragon at the covert," she announced. "She might choose one of my hatchlings too, that would be nice... what is that Prince Regent like, anyway? I would like to see him."

"I have never seen him, but I have heard he is not exactly thin and has at least a dozen lovers," Granby replied. "Not the type of person I would like to meet, myself. Speaking of lovers, Laurence," he stepped closer and continued in a slightly more hushed tone, "how is your back doing?"

"What do you mean?" Laurence blinked.

Granby gave him an unabashed grin. "Was last night's lady not a back-clawing type?"

"John, you would oblige me by not mentioning…"

"What last night's lady?" Temeraire enquired quietly, but a heavy weight's 'quiet' words usually could be heard several clearings over.

Laurence groaned inwardly. "No one, Temeraire, pray, be silent!"

Temeraire gave his captain a somewhat hurt look and decided to get back to this later. His curiosity would not leave him in peace, anyway…

"Temrer!" Volly touched down next to them. "We are going parade!"

Captain James rolled his eyes. "He is firm in the belief that he will be chosen for the parade. I tried in vain to dash his hopes…"

Emily appeared a few minutes later, pale but determined. "Well, gentlemen, thank you all for coming," she said in as loud a voice as she could manage without resorting to shouting. "As you all know, I have been appointed to organise this little spectacle for the Prince Regent and his esteemed guests, and we are going to do well. No, not only well, but brilliantly. For this, I naturally need the best fliers. As there should be seven dragons, one of which is my Excidium, I will need another six, and I have decided to choose dragons from all weight classes to form a spectacular spearhead shape in the air, a heavy-weight in the middle, two middle-weights on each of his or her sides, and another light-weight on both ends of the formation. For the light-weights, I need a Winchester and a Pascal's Blue."

"Me! Me!" Volly jumped, flapping with his wings.

"Oh, hush, for heaven's sake!" Captain James waved his hand.

Emily looked around, her lips pressed tightly together, her eyes like those of a hawk. "Elsie. The Winchester should be Elsie. Captain Hollin, do you accept the assignment?"

Hollin stepped forward while Volly groaned in disappointment. "Naturally, and thank you, Captain Roland."

Emily nodded. "For the Pascal's Blue… Titania."

"Titania?" Iskierka snorted. "What a lame name. She is smaller than some Winchesters…"

"Four middle-weights are needed, and since one of them is my Excidium, I should prefer to have another Longwing," Emily carried on. "Captain Harcourt, do you and Lily feel up to the task?"

Catherine inclined her head. "Certainly, Captain Roland. We are honoured."

"She does not look very happy about it, does she?" Temeraire muttered, glancing at Catherine, only to be silenced by Laurence pressing his index finger to his lips.

"I need two Yellow-Reapers," Emily went on. "Messoria, if you please… and…"

Oberon, Captain Hawthorn's young dragon flapped his wings to attract her attention.

"I am sorry, Oberon, but we need dragons with more experience," Emily said sharply. "Dragons who do not get frightened by lightning so much that they let their captains fall. Yes, I have heard the story."

Oberon, completely routed, hung his head.

"Well, that was nasty of her," Temeraire opined.

"Nasty, but reasonable," Iskierka replied. "I for one would never let my Granby fall…"

"Yes, but you let him get captured by the French," Temeraire replied testily.

"And you, you let your captain return to England to be hanged!" she retorted.

"Shut up, both of you!" Granby hissed at them – even Emily was looking in their direction, her eyes gleaming with fury over having been interrupted by two squabbling dragons.

"Captain Granby and Laurence, pray try and discipline your beasts," she said scathingly, then turned back to the rest of the crowd. "I choose Angelicus for the other Reaper. And now, we only need a heavy-weight, the most important role on the formation, as the heavy-weight is going to be flying in the centre."

"I hope you are aware you have just killed our only chance at being chosen," Temeraire muttered to Iskierka.

"Me? It was you!" she snapped, turning her back on him.

Emily once again ran her eyes along the crowd, her gaze stopping for a few seconds on the squabbling two. Then, for another few seconds of examining Gwendolyn and Antares standing near their parents, she said, "As some with the best flying abilities can never learn discipline, and therefore I am sure it would not be fortunate to place them on a formation that needs perfect discipline to move in perfect accordance and with perfect timing, and since even their offspring, equally able fliers, have in themselves the penchant for being undisciplined, I am forced to choose from those with lesser agility and manoeuvrability. Maximus and Captain Berkley, if you please."

With a surprised expression on his face, Berkley stepped forward and inclined his head.

"We are to meet outside Dover, by the cliffs, in an hour," Emily went on. "There is just enough space for us to start devising and learning our choreography. Naturally, the parade will need aerial guard as well, I shall appoint five dragons for that task a few days before the parade itself – that task does not require much preparation. Any objections, comments? None? Good." With that she strode off.

"That speech she said about our being undisciplined and our hatchlings having a penchant for being undisciplined just because they are _our_ hatchlings, was very, very unfair," Temeraire said.

"Are you sure she was talking about _us_ and _our_ hatchlings?" Iskierka asked darkly.

"Quite sure," Temeraire nodded. "Hey, Laurence, where are you going?" But his captain only waved at him to stay behind and ran in the direction of the barracks – perhaps… after Emily Roland? – Temeraire wondered. He could not be sure, because as soon as Laurence reached into the thicket of threes surrounding Excidium's clearing, he got out of sight. And since Laurence had wanted him to stay put, he was not supposed to go nosing after him. Not even if he was dying of curiosity to find out what his captain was planning to do.

o

"Emily!" Laurence called after her, but she either did not hear or pretended not to, and kept walking with deliberate, manly steps. "Captain Roland!"

"What?" she doubled back, giving him a dark glance from under knitted eyebrows. Laurence did not remember when she had last looked as hostile as she did now, and he had seen her looking hostile more times in the past seven weeks than he could possibly count. "What do you want?"

"Captain…" he panted after the run. "I should like to ask you to… reconsider."

"…my decision of not including Temeraire on the parade team?" she asked with her arms akimbo. "I really do not see why you would want me to reconsider… This is finally a parting of our ways, even in the sense of duty: I shall command my team of parade-fliers, and you can have my formation to boss around! You can even exempt yourself from the pit digging, so you have no bloody reason to complain!"

"I am not complaining, and I never wished to 'boss around' your formation!" Laurence replied, his voice slightly more passionate than he would have liked it to be – he had come after her with the intention of having a sensible conversation while keeping his head. "That was Little's idea, not mine, you know it just as well as you know that it was not Temeraire's fault that Iskierka once again started arguing with him; she argues with everyone who would listen…"

"Then perhaps Temeraire should not have listened!" Emily snapped. "So, if you are here to beg me to let Temeraire fly instead of Maximus, save your breath. Neither Temeraire nor any of his offspring will take part in this assignment, not even if they are the best bloody fliers in the whole wide world!"

"Why not?" Laurence demanded. "You know that none of the heavy-weights fly as well as Temeraire or his children, so even if you do not choose him, you should at least choose Gwendolyn or Antares, they both have the agility of Celestials while Maximus is not famous for his nimbleness, and…"

"Enough of this, Laurence!" she held up a hand. "I am not going to change my decision, not even if you beg me on your knees!"

"I am never going to beg you on my knees," he said through gritted teeth, "but this is not about their being undisciplined, is it? It is still, as always, about _me_."

"_You_? Do not make me laugh! It is time you finally understood that you are not the centre of the universe, Laurence! Your actions mean nothing, your mere existence means nothing! Why would I even pay attention to the deeds of a convict, barely more than a simple prisoner, and a goddamn whoring bastard at that…?! I don't give a damn about you, and my decisions are not based on you and your misdeeds, my decisions come from thorough consideration, and…"

"Wait a minute! Just wait a minute!" Laurence interrupted, his face red with anger. "You might, _just might_ not be doing this out of petty revenge, _and_ I am truly barely more than a prisoner, but what is that whole whoring part? For your information, I have never, ever, visited a brothel in my life, and…"

"You might not have," she cut in, "but apparently you do not even need to, after all, your whores come to you of their own volition!"

"What… what are you talking about?"

"Now what, but whom! Edith Woolvey! I saw… _heard_ you two in the morning in the park! How damn gallant of you to escort her back to Dover after you had your way with her!" Emily spat, and for a moment he wondered if he indeed saw tears glinting in her eyes or it was just a trick of the light – then he realised what she had implied with her earlier statement of whores coming to him of their own volition, and anger clouded his mind even more.

"Edith is not a whore!" he burst out.

"Perhaps she was not, but you have managed to sully her, a married woman!" Emily shouted in his face, her hands balled into fists. "You must be so proud of yourself to count her among your blasted trophies!"

"Just what the hell are you talking about? She is not married, she is a widow, and I never counted her among my trophies! What trophies, I ask you?"

"What trophies?" she let out a shrill laugh. "All the women you ever slept with, obviously, and I have no doubt there were more of them than you could count…"

Now it was his turn to let out a cold laugh. "More than I could count? Heavens, Emily, I could count them on one hand!"

Even if she had been ready with a retort, his reply must have shocked her enough to silence her for a few seconds, giving Laurence an opportunity to carry on, "Only five, Emily. Five in my whole life, and two of them in my youth, I was barely nineteen then! In my adult life… only three, you included! If that makes me a goddamn whoring bastard, then please, feel free to call me that!"

Shaking from head to toe, tears now clearly and undeniably veiling her eyes, she regarded him for a long moment, then erupted like a volcano, "Don't you dare count me among your… women! You know I would never have done it under different circumstances, and it meant nothing, absolutely nothing to me, as _you_ mean nothing too!"

"Oh, if I mean nothing, then I beg you to explain, why are you calling me to account about Edith Woolvey? Perhaps you _are_ jealous, only you would never admit it! But jealousy means you would have expected me to be faithful to you, and I am asking you: on what basis?" She opened her mouth for a retort, but he continued vehemently, "I told you I loved you, more than once, and you practically sent me to hell! If you had only been a tad nicer, I would have offered you my heart, my faith, my everything, but you would have none of it, so you forfeited your right to call me to account! You have no right, absolutely no right to question me about my relations with other women! But to set your mind at ease… Edith and I are not having a relationship…" Laurence heaved a deep, calming sigh. "She is leaving for Halifax in Canada tomorrow. I shall never see her again."

"Oh," Emily's lips trembled, streaks of tears shining on her face. "So, last night was a 'last farewell', like with my mother six years ago? What if in the fervour of 'saying goodbye' you got her with child as well, eh?"

Laurence shook his head with a sad smile. "I asked her about this beforehand. Do you think I would make the same mistake twice? Pray do not be ridiculous… She reassured me that she was no longer fertile."

"Good for her!" Emily replied with a snort, then, giving him a final look of contempt, she turned on her heels and ran away as though a thousand devils had been chasing her.

Laurence stared after her, his heart heavy, his thoughts jumbled. _Good for her?_ He frowned. _Oh, she meant Jane…_

"Hey, what was that all about?" Granby asked, stepping to him a moment later.

Still staring at the direction Emily had disappeared in, Laurence sighed, "I do not know. Honestly, I do not."

o

Emily slammed the door of her room shut, and dropped herself on the bed, her body convulsing with sobs. Just an hour ago she had been resolved to keep her head, to treat him with icy coldness, not showing a bit of emotion other than hatred, and most definitely not showing any sign of jealousy or vulnerability; but here she was, feeling utterly jealous and vulnerable, knowing she had made a complete fool of herself in front of him. There was no way he did not suspect the true nature of her feelings now… her resolve to be strong had crumbled under the weight of his words.

'_If you had only been a tad nicer, I would have offered you my heart, my faith, my everything, but you would have none of it, so you forfeited your right to call me to account!' _

The worst was that he had been right. Every single word he had said had been right: he had indeed confessed his love to her and she had indeed sent him to hell… so on what basis was she expecting him to be faithful to her?

Emily hated to admit when others were right, especially that _he_ was right. _She_ had driven him into Edith Woolvey's arms… so she had no right to be upset about them having slept together… But it still upset her; it upset her so much that it felt like physical pain just to think of him kissing that goddess-like woman, muttering 'Edith' over and over like he had repeated _her_ name in the tunnel… But at least he had not given _Edith_ a child…

Emily's eyes flew open – had she really thought that?!

'Do you think I would make the same mistake twice? Pray do not be ridiculous…'

_Oh, the goddamn irony,_ she thought, her mind too numb, her whole being too much in pain to even find it amusing. _Not making the same mistake twice, eh? And he calls __**me**__ ridiculous!_

And that was when she realised she was indeed in pain. She doubled up, curling into a foetus-like position, pressing her hands on her belly. _O God… am I losing it?_ She bit into her lip against a howl that wanted to escape less out of physical ache, more out of misery thinking of her baby dying. _O God… do not take it away from me! Save it! Save us…_

oOo

**A/N: See that pretty green-lettered button down there? Click it and give feedback, please! :)**


	13. Be Careful What You Wish For

**A/N: **Have you seen that amazing excerpt from Temeraire 6 – Tongues of Serpents on Novik's homepage? I just loved Tharkay fighting with a chair… XD

Thanks to everyone who reviewed on the previous chapter!

_T2238_: I can't imagine Excidium having as close a relationship with Emily as Laurence has with Temeraire, because for Temeraire Laurence was his first captain, while for Excidium Emily must be at least his fourth. But of course Excidium still cares for Emily, I have had him express his worries for her more than once. :)

This is the longest chapter in the whole story, bear with it. The rest will be shorter, you have my word on that! :)

**Chapter 13**

**Be Careful What You Wish For**

"Laurence, is something bothering you?" Temeraire asked that evening as they were flying a circle over the white cliffs. After their duty hours, Laurence had spent some time with Jason, and spending time with his son had usually brightened his mood, but this time he seemed just as forlorn after the 'father and son hours' as he had beforehand. He had even refused to go and have dinner, saying he was not hungry and preferred a quiet flight instead.

"Nothing, my dear," Laurence replied heavily, "at least, nothing you can do anything about."

"But still… let me try," the dragon said, craning his neck to glance at his captain. "Does it have something to do with 'last night's lady' by any chance, whoever it was?"

Laurence seemed too sad to even be embarrassed, and for a change he did not blush, only shook his head dejectedly. "Not really… at least… it is not _only _about her. It is mostly _not_ about her."

"About Emily then," Temeraire guessed.

Laurence nodded. "She knows I slept with Edith last night and she is very angry."

"Oh… well, if I were in her place, I would be angry too, I think… Now that you mention it, I would be angry as well if I found out that Iskierka was mating with someone else behind my back… not that I like her, of course, because I do not, but still… she is my mate, and I am hers, at least for the time being. And as long as we consider each other mates, we are not supposed to frolic with other dragons… Then again, Emily does not consider you her mate, so probably she has no right to blame you for frolicking with other women… but the question is: do _you_ consider her your mate or not? Because if you do, then you indeed did wrong in mating with Edith. I think. But I am not entirely sure. In all honesty, I find this quite confusing."

"Because it _is_ confusing," Laurence sighed. "When Emily called me to account, I told her she had no right to blame me, as she had rejected my approach on several occasions… and I know I was right in telling her off… but then… why do I still feel guilty?"

"Because you love her, the undeserving little witch," Temeraire replied gently. "Though Iskierka called her little bitch instead. But don't tell her I told you that…"

They flew on silently for another few minutes, and it was once again the dragon who broke the silence. "Laurence, I think it is lucky after all that we have not been chosen for the parade. You get to be formation leader again, and you will not die of pit digging. Unless, of course, we are still here in England when the parade is over and Emily comes back and once again forces you to dig the pit all by yourself. But if that happens, promise me you will disobey her."

"I cannot promise you to disobey her in duty hours… but I promise to not listen to her outside duty. I am through with her, for ever."

"Why, was this Edith so much better than her just because she did not claw at your back? Or did she?"

This time Laurence did not manage to prevent himself from blushing. "No, she certainly did not claw at my back… or any part of me, but she was not any better than Emily… actually… no one ever was. And the strangest of all is that Edith wanted me to promise to fight for Emily…"

"And did you promise her?"

"Not really… but I have to admit that she has a point."

"What point?"

"She said I should once again tell Emily how I felt… and probably some day she too will tell me how exactly she feels about me. But problem is, Temeraire… I am simply too afraid to learn how she feels. If I lull myself into the belief that she has feelings for me… I mean, feelings other than hatred… and if it turns out I was wrong… I am not sure I could take it. So perhaps it is better to banish the thought that she might… _like me_ in any way… better to remain in the belief that she hates me, and not raise my hopes in vain." He lifted his eyes on the horizon where orange clouds gathered to partly veil the setting sun. Temeraire knew his captain regarded the discussion finished, so he headed back to the covert.

Once Laurence had left for the barracks, Temeraire decided to seek out Iskierka whom he had avoided all afternoon, still mad at her for having ruined their chances at being chosen for the parade.

"I have been thinking," he announced.

"Again?" she snorted, examining her talons in a disinterested way.

"Yes, again," he said scathingly. "And I have decided to stop mating with you."

"Indeed?" she squinted at him. "After only one afternoon of really doing it? And may I ask why?"

"Because the circumstances have changed. Emily will be away for a month now, not having a chance to torture and kill Laurence, therefore I think we should not risk making an egg for another month. Once Emily returns, we can again try…"

"Too late, old boy," Iskierka replied grouchily. "Too late."

"What do you mean?"

The female Kazilik gave him an annoyed look. "Do not pretend to be so dumb. You have already given me that egg. At least I think so. I cannot be perfectly sure for another few weeks, of course…"

"But… but… Iskierka!" Temeraire stammered – something he had probably never done in his whole life. "How could I have… at only one go?"

"Luck. Or misfortune. Depends on your point of view," she stretched languidly. "So, if you do not want to mate, then we shall not, for all I care… go away now. I and the egg want to sleep."

Temeraire blinked. This was unexpected. And most unfortunate. What was he about to do now to keep Laurence in England?

He wished something would happen – something, anything, that would delay their departure…

oOo

Emily was sitting apart from the others, hoping to close out their carefree voices and be as far from the nauseating smell of their sandwiches as possible.

They had been designing moves for the aerial parade all morning like every day of the previous week, and even though Emily had decided to be strict and unrelenting when it came to deciding about accepting or rejecting a certain move, she had found no real strength in herself to argue with the others. The command of this operation was already slipping through her fingers, she knew it, but she was powerless to stop it. She felt all her energies leeched out by Laurence's 'unfaithfulness', the latest heated exchange between them, the way he had been avoiding her ever since, and especially the cramps she was still suffering from.

Curled into a ball, her arms encircling her knees, she was gazing at the sea, her inners trembling. Trembling for fear that she was losing the baby or that it was sick in the first place… and she did not even understand why she was so worried. Just a week ago she had thought it would be a relief to miscarry, but now that it might happen at any minute, she was dreading it.

"Mind if I sit down?" Catherine Harcourt asked, stuffing the last few bites of her sandwich into her mouth. "Or would you prefer to be alone?"

Emily shrugged and Catherine flopped down next to her. "Is something bothering you?"

"No," Emily replied, following a seagull with her eyes, her heart hammering madly against her ribcage. "Yes," she said a moment later.

"I thought as much," Catherine nodded. "Is it something to do with the parade? I think we flew well today, your ideas were not half bad, this could turn out to be quite a bit of fun after all…"

"It is not about the parade." Emily shook her head, wondering if she should ask the other woman or not – but if she did not, who else could she ask? If only her mother were here to help her with her advice and experience… then again, if her mother were still alive, Emily would not be in this condition in the first place. "Harcourt…" she muttered under her breath, not looking at the other woman, "when you were pregnant… did you have… pains? Cramps?"

There was a sharp intake of breath signalling that her question had surprised Catherine, and finally Emily chanced a look at her. Catherine's green eyes were wide and searching, her mouth slightly hanging open in shock.

"Are you…?"

Emily nodded jerkily. "For the time being. But the way I am having these cramps… I fear I am losing it. Or is this sort of thing normal?"

"I do not know," Catherine replied, "I never had any pains, at least, not in the early stage… you should ask the covert physician, though, that is all I can advise you. Have you been… bleeding too?"

Emily shook her head. "The cramps began about a week ago, but I have not bled."

"Well, that is at least reassuring," Catherine opined. "Unless, of course… you were thinking the same way I was… wishing you miscarried…"

Emily made a grimace. "You would be surprised, but when I found out I was with child, I was half wishing for it… but when I actually felt the cramps… I was scared." She felt tears well up in her eyes. "I was so… so scared, Catherine… I still am."

Harcourt placed a hand on Emily's shoulder. "I know how you feel… I must admit I was never the ideal mother, but… there were moments, albeit fleeting ones, when I was worried about my baby. Mind you, I feel kind of stupid now. You have been sickly all week, at least _I _should have realised what was going on even if the others did not… they are men, after all, short-sighted and dumb."

Emily let out a chuckle, giving her companion a grateful little smile for cheering her a bit, but her smile faded when she felt another stab of pain in her belly.

"Are you having the cramp again?" Catherine asked, more worry in her voice than Emily thought she deserved. She had, after all, been treating everyone around herself horribly ever since her mother died. Everyone, save Jason. And Harcourt was still nice to her… and so were Berkley and Granby, and… even Laurence, the man she had hurt and slighted the most. With the exception of his last tirade, he had always treated her kindly… but they had not spoken for a week, ever since their quarrel that fateful morning. She wondered if he were still mad at her, but whenever they met, his face was like a mask carved of stone, impossible to read.

"Just a little," she muttered, rubbing her abdomen. "Not as bad as at first, but still… and I fear that even if I am not losing the baby… it might be ill. Very, very ill…"

"But why would it be ill?" Catherine frowned.

Emily hesitated for a moment whether to talk or keep silent, but she felt she had to tell someone or she would explode… "I spent the first three weeks of my pregnancy unconscious, in a fever… Catherine… who knows what that did to my child?"

Harcourt's hand on her shoulder tightened, almost painfully, and Emily was forced to look at the other woman to see her face whiter than normal, her freckles in sharp contrast to her pallor.

"You mean… you got pregnant _right before_ you fell ill?"

Blushing slightly, Emily nodded.

"O. My. God. And some say fate does not have a sense of humour…" Harcourt commented. "Does he know at all?"

"Of course not, and I would prefer he never found out."

"Well, you have a good chance of that," Catherine said sourly. "You might not have heard, since you are avoiding Laurence and his company, but for the past few days Iskierka has been going on about being gravid. She might lay the egg in two or three weeks if she indeed is, so… Laurence and Temeraire are likely to be packed on the next ship leaving for New South Wales."

"How soon?" Emily breathed, not knowing why her gullet felt compressed all of a sudden.

"I am not sure… but I can write to Tom and ask him if you like… I have not talked to him for months anyway… not even in letters."

Emily gave the other captain a compassionate look. "I am sorry your marriage did not work out."

Catherine wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, me too. Not much… after all, I never wished for a husband or a child… but still. At least Mark is going to inherit all the Riley riches, that is something. Tell you what… if Laurence had not explained me what I would be denying my child without marriage if it was a boy, I do not know what would have become of Mark. I would not have cared if Tom never found out I was pregnant in the first place, but… it was better this way. Not perfect, but better. And he is so very proud of our son. Like… Laurence is of Jason. I am sure he would be proud to know about… this child as well," she looked pointedly at Emily's belly. "And he deserves to know."

Emily furrowed her brow. "But you will not tell him, will you?"

Harcourt pursed her lips. "For the time being. But if Iskierka truly lays an egg and they truly have to leave… I will not keep my mouth shut, so you had better tell him yourself."

"I do not see why I… or anyone… should tell him," Emily replied defiantly. "It would only hurt him even more to know he is leaving not one but two children behind… and knowing him, he would insist on doing the right thing and marrying me or some equal madness, which of course I would need to refuse..."

"But _why_ would you need to refuse?" Catherine arched an eyebrow at her. "Pray do not tell because you hate him, because I know you don't."

"I beg to differ," Emily said coldly. "I do hate him. Very much."

"Then pray tell, why does the mere idea hurt you that _he_ would be hurt knowing he is leaving two children behind?"

"I…"

"And pray tell, if you hate him so much, why on earth did you lie with him?" Catherine carried on, not even leaving Emily a chance to interrupt. "I for one would never have slept with Tom had I not _liked_ him at least a bit. I was not in love with him, obviously, but he was so darn attractive, and his smile… it swept me off my feet. Or…" she stiffened for a moment, "did he… force you?"

"What?" Emily gasped.

"Oh, thank heaven," Harcourt laughed nervously, "the mere idea is preposterous, I mean, Laurence is a gentleman through and through, he would never ever force himself on a woman. It was _your _idea, was it not?"

Emily once again felt her cheeks burn. This was definitely not where she had wished to arrive with this conversation, but from a certain point of view, it felt relieving to talk about it – she had not had anyone to talk to about this before. Not a mother, not a friend, no one. For over a week she had been struggling with her secret all alone, and its weight was beginning to be too much to bear without sharing.

Harcourt was not her friend, but she was still the closest thing to a friend Emily had at the moment. She nodded bluntly. "Of course it was. Saint William surely would not seduce a woman… and he need not, either. Women usually offer themselves to him on a golden plate. Because we are all such fools…"

Catherine gently squeezed her arm. "Being in love is not foolish, Roland."

Emily wanted to say she was not in love, it was on the tip of her tongue like the 'I love you' had been on the tip of her tongue after the second lovemaking with Laurence, but she did not say it, like she had not said those words in the tunnel either. In the tunnel she had not said the truth. Now she refused to say a lie. And she did not even understand why.

She looked away, her voice wavering as she said, "Do no tell him about my condition. I beg you."

Harcourt heaved a sigh. "You know I must, and I hope you also know that I am not doing this _against you_, Roland. I am doing it _for him_. Because I at least value him, even if _you_ do not. Though, I must say, it is a bit hard to imagine how you can be in love with him and not value him at the same time…" She paused for a moment, then said, in a somewhat brighter tone, "But you have not eaten a thing yet and that poor baby is starving, come on, we still have some sandwiches!"

"Thanks, I would rather not, I would only throw it back up." Emily hung her head. "And Harcourt…"

"Yes?"

"Promise me you won't tell anyone a word about this. At least not until Iskierka lays the egg."

"All right," Catherine shrugged. "My lips are sealed until then. But in the meantime, Roland, pray visit the doctor."

oOo

Emily certainly did not visit the doctor, thinking she would only be forbidden to continue working if she did, and she definitely did not wish to be 'grounded' when there was an aerial parade to plan and execute. Besides, her cramps had become less and less frequent, even if they tended to occur occasionally, mostly when she met Laurence on a corridor and he merely inclined his head in recognition and walked past. After such fleeting encounters, it was always her heart that ached first, then came the cramps and the nausea. Eventually Emily concluded that her physical pains had something to do with her nerves and probably nothing with the baby.

She had, however, got into the habit of massaging her belly from time to time, as it had felt necessary due to her belly aches, and now she had to be careful when she made such involuntary gestures lest someone saw her and made the connection between her sickliness and her gentle stroking movements. And if someone indeed caught her in mid-caress, there was no way the news would not reach Laurence's ears…

By the ninth of June the choreography was fully devised and mostly learned as well, it only needed practice and refining. Emily had worked hard, but probably not as hard as she had intended at the beginning – she simply could not ignore the protests and admonitions of her body. She decided not to overexert herself, trying in the meantime to convince herself that she was only saving herself for _herself_, but the more she recited in her mind that her career and her health meant everything, the more her sub-conscious pushed the baby to the foreground, and sometimes she caught herself thinking that nothing mattered but the life and health of her child. She could also not ignore Excidium's pleas of sparing herself – apparently the dragon was concerned for her 'egg' that, if a healthy female, would some day be his captain.

Emily was hoping for a girl too, although she was sure Jason would prefer to have a little brother to play with than a sister. At times like these, when thinking of her children – as she could not bring herself not to think of Jason as her son as well as her brother – she wondered whether it would be difficult for him to understand the exact family relations between himself and his little brother or sister: the baby to born would be after all Jason's sibling but also his niece or nephew.

Sometimes Emily thought that perhaps Jason need not even know that the baby's father was the same as _his _father… because if he knew, he would surely tell Laurence in a letter. Not that he would _not _write to Laurence about the baby's arrival even if he did not know who the father was…

Emily knew that eventually Laurence would find out that he had given her a child in the tunnel, but if she were lucky, he would only find out in Australia, saving Emily from the pain of having to see him suffer or having to hear his complaints about her keeping it a secret from him.

The only way Laurence would _not _find out was if Jason never wrote to him, which, for the time being, seemed impossible to expect of the boy, as he had announced just the previous day that he could not only read properly but write properly as well. The last time Emily had seen him write something had been during her illness, when he had written her a 'get well' card with terrible spelling, but he must have improved a lot since, given the fact that Laurence had spent hours every day teaching his son.

Yes, it would surely be difficult to convince Jason to keep the baby a secret from Laurence, but she would somehow succeed. For the time being she did not need to worry about that – all she had to worry about was making sure that Laurence would not find out about her condition as long as he was still in England.

"Emily, may I read to you?" Jason asked that evening. "I have been meaning to read to you for weeks, but you have always been so tired in the evenings that I didn't want to bother you… but you look a bit better tonight, so may I? Pleeeease?"

"Yes, of course you may." Emily gently ruffled the boy's hair – Jason was her little ray of sunshine even in the darkest hour. If only he did not resemble his father so much! It was partly because of Jason that Emily never managed to forget Laurence: every time she looked at the boy, she was reminded of the father. _Would my baby also take after him?_ – she wondered, curling in her armchair in a catlike position. "So, what are you going to read to me?"

"Rumpelstiltskin. Papa said you would love it!" Jason announced, his enthusiasm waking her suspicion at once, but she tried to not frown, although she was not sure she managed.

"_...round about the fire quite a ridiculous little man was jumping, he hopped upon one leg, and shouted: _

_to-day I bake, to-morrow brew,_

_the next I'll have the young queen's child._

_Ha, glad am I that no one knew_

_that Rumpelstiltskin I am styled_."

The fairy tale went on, and Emily's frown deepened – she knew exactly why Laurence had told Jason she would 'love' the story: the lowly bastard had used the child's innocence to aim a stab at her!

By the time Jason finished the tale and looked up with an expectant little smile on his face, waiting to be praised for his reading skills, Emily was practically seething with rage. _How dare he use Jason against me like that?_

"Emily… are you all right?" her brother asked, his smile disappearing to be replaced by a pout.

_But did I not use Jason again him in a similar style?_ – a little voice in her mind asked. _Or even in a nastier fashion?_

"Yes, yes, Jason, I am all right," she forced a smile on her face. "You did well, very well, indeed."

"Can I read you another story tomorrow? Like… Sleeping Beauty, for example? I love that tale! Do you know you used to be like princess Briar Rose in Sleeping Beauty when you were uncon… unconscious?" Jason grinned, slightly ashamed at his tongue stumbling over the more difficult words. "When papa was standing by your bed, he was like the prince. A pity he did not try to kiss you awake… or were you too sick to be woken by a kiss?"

"I don't know who Briar Rose is, but I would have punched Laurence if he so much as tried to kiss me," she replied irritably.

"But… princess Briar Rose would never punch her prince!"

"These are just stupid fairy tales, Jason, it is time you realised it!" Emily snapped, jumping up from her seat.

Tears welled up in Jason's eyes as he clutched his book to his chest. "But papa said fairy tales were nice and useful… and they teach children good things…"

"I don't care what idiocies Laurence stuffed your head with," Emily grunted, and even if her heart ached for her little brother and she would have liked to crouch down to him and take him in her arms, she could not bring herself to. He was, after all, defending his father. Against her. "Go to sleep, Jason."

o

Laurence was awoken by a knock on his door. Outside he found a tearful Jason in his nightwear, clutching to himself his copy of _Grimm's Fairy Tales_ and saying, "Papa, may I sleep here with you? Emily is so nasty, I don't want to sleep in her room!"

With a sigh, Laurence let his son in. What could Emily have told the poor boy to hurt him so?

"Of course you can sleep here." He climbed back into his bed, glad it was wide enough for two persons, although it was not a double bed. Jason slammed his copy of _Grimm's Fairy Tales_ on the bedside table and slipped under the covers.

Laurence had never slept with a child right next to him – Jason had slept in his own bed during Emily's illness – and he was surprised when Jason instinctively snuggled up to him – probably he had occasionally done the same with his sister...

Laurence could not really imagine Emily cuddling with her little brother, but based on the naturalness with which Jason had nestled himself in his arms, 'Miss Thistle' must have allowed herself some gentleness and motherliness from time to time. Laurence could not help but smile, both at imagining Emily being all motherly, and at the feeling of having his little boy so close, so trusting…

"Are you all right, Jason?" he whispered, feeling that the boy was still trembling a bit.

"Uh-huh."

"What happened? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Emily… she said that fairy tales were stupid and that you stuffed my head with idiocies… but I know she's not right. I love the tales!"

"Of course you do, all children do," Laurence gently squeezed the boy's arm. "I did too. My favourite was the one about Theseus in the labyrinth of the minotaur."

"Really? What did Theseus do in the labyrinth? And what's a minotaur? And what's a labyrinth?"

Laurence laughed into the darkness. He simply loved telling his son bedtime stories, even if this one probably was not the ideal one for a child before falling asleep. "Well… a labyrinth is a maze, a place where there are so many criss-crossing paths that you get lost easily."

"Oh. I see."

"So, on the distant land of Crete, there was a labyrinth in which lived the fearsome minotaur, a creature half man and half bull. He was very evil and demanded that young men and girls be brought to him so that he could feast on them. Everyone was afraid of him, everyone, but a hero named Theseus, who volunteered to slay the monster…"

Jason listened to the tale, his breathing calming by the minute, and by the time Laurence finished retelling the story, he was sure his little boy had fallen asleep. Tentatively, he pressed a kiss on the boy's head – something he had never done before, he realised with a stab of guilt.

"Papa, but how did the minotaur come to be?" Jason said all of a sudden.

"I thought you were long asleep!" Laurence scolded him playfully.

"Nope, papa, the tale was too exciting to fall asleep… so, how did the minotaur come to be?"

"Er… well, you know, King Minos of Crete made Poseidon, god of the seas angry with him, and Poseidon punished him with making his wife, Pasiphae, fall in love with a bull," Laurence explained, knowing well he was blushing in the darkness.

"And…?" Jason asked, as though it were the most natural thing in the world that a human female fell in love with an animal.

"And… they had a child, the minotaur, that is why it was half man and half bull."

"He must've looked great, don't you think?" Jason yawned and Laurence heaved a relieved sigh – apparently he did not yet have to explain to his son the mechanics of breeding.

"I do not know, son. I should say he must have looked ugly. But pray try to sleep now."

"Okay. Love you, papa…" Jason fidgeted a bit, then fell still.

"Love you too, son," Laurence muttered and drifted off feeling happier than he had in a long, long time.

o

Emily woke up to find Jason's bed empty. It was only dawn, the sun barely risen, so there was no way he could have gone to have breakfast yet…

Fear clutched at her heart – she had been probably too harsh with him the previous night, she had scared him away… but where could he have gone? Where…?

"Of course, Laurence!" she slapped her forehead, and thankful that morning sickness was avoiding her for a change, she slipped into her slippers and hurried out of her room in her nightshirt, not bothering to don even a dressing gown.

The corridors were still empty, the only person she met was a lieutenant staggering drunkenly after a night on the town. Not that Emily would have minded anyone catching a glimpse of her in her nightshirt – modesty had never been a problem for her. For a moment, in spite of her will, Laurence's shocked and scolding face appeared in her mind's eyes, the way he had looked upon spotting her in the sulphurous lake in the Pamirs… the goddamn hypocrite, how dare he tell her off for bathing together with men she never slept with, when _he_ had slept with five women! Five! Not that most men in the Corps had not slept with at least twice as many, but still… she hated the mere idea of imagining him with another woman.

_Oh, dang it, what kind of thoughts are these again?_ – she chided herself, turning into the corridor on which she knew to find Laurence's room.

She practically ripped the door open – of course he would never close it properly, the trusting idiot – and stormed in, only to be stopped in her tracks by the image that greeted her. There they were: father and son, sleeping peacefully, Jason's back pressed to Laurence's chest, Laurence's arm slung protectively over the child's midsection, their tousled blond hair spread out on the pillow… a true vision of loveliness. It struck Emily harder than ever that Jason indeed seemed a miniature version of his father; they had never looked so much alike.

Involuntarily she took a step towards them, making the floorboard creak under her feet, and Laurence opened his eyes – a wonder that her ripping the door open had not woken him or Jason in the first place. He squinted, rubbed his eyes and said in a sleepy voice, "What are you doing here?"

Emily suddenly realised why she had come here and banished the soft and sweet feeling that had filled her upon seeing them sleep. "What?" she snapped. "I have come for Jason, obviously!"

Now it was Jason's turn to wake up and yawn. "Whaddayawantemily?" he muttered.

"What? I want an explanation! From both of you!" she stamped for foot, even though it did not give much of a sound, as she was wearing fluffy slippers instead of boots.

"What explanation, if I may ask?" Laurence sat up. "I could demand an explanation from you too, Captain Roland, and for two things at once: one, why did you tell Jason that fairy tales were stupid when they are not, and two, why have you entered my room without so much as knocking? Even Jason knocked when he arrived last night. I thought I managed to teach you some manners while you were on my crew, but apparently my attempts at educating you were a failure."

Emily's hands balled into fists, but she decided not to shout, at least, not yet. "Instead of trying to offend me, Laurence, answer me, why did you not bring Jason back to my room?"

"Because I wanted to stay," Jason replied before his father could.

"Of course, defend your father, by all means!" Emily snarled. "Answer me, young man, how dare you slip out in the middle of the night and scare me so? When I fell asleep, you were still there, when I woke up, you were nowhere…!"

"Oh, were you really scared?" Jason asked brightly. "That means you were worried about me, which means you still love me!"

"Of course I do… did you think… I no longer did?" Emily muttered, shocked. Had she indeed been so horrible with him that he thought she no longer loved him? Was she really this bad a sister and substitute-mother? If yes, then she had failed both her mother and Jason. She had failed to fulfil even the slightest part of her mother's last wish…

The little boy shrugged, his expression guilty all of a sudden. Just like in the evening, Emily felt like gathering him in her arms, rocking him like a baby and cooing into his ears just how much she loved him… but she would not do it, especially not in front of Laurence! The last thing she wanted was to give the man another chance to see her fragility, her femininity…

"Come, Jason, let us go back to our room," she held out a hand towards the boy, but Jason did not budge.

"I shan't go, unless I can go with my fairy tales." He snatched up the thick volume from the bedside table and clutched it to himself defiantly. "If they can't go, I shan't go either."

Emily groaned inwardly. This was once again Laurence's doing! He and his brilliant ideas of teaching a five-year-old to read – and such a recalcitrant five-year-old at that! "You can bring your book, just come at last," she grunted.

With a small smile, Jason slipped out of the bed. "I loved sleeping with you here again, papa!"

"Emily," Laurence too emerged from under the covers, looking slightly bashful at wearing only a nightshirt when she was equally underdressed, "may I have a word with you?"

The last thing Emily wanted was to talk to him, not when their last conversation had ended with him shouting at her that she had no right to expect any sort of faithfulness from him and she nearly spitting in his face that he had cheated on her while she was pregnant with his child – but thankfully she had managed to hold back and only say 'Good for her' and run away before he could have questioned what she had meant by it… But she could not run away from all future conversations with him, no matter how much she dreaded them.

"I would rather not," she replied, but then he said the magic word 'Please', his head cocked, his straggly blond hair cascading onto his shoulders, his eyes beseeching, and she could not find it in her heart to say no. After all, if the conversation went wrong at some point, she could always leave…

"All right, out with it," she said, her arms akimbo, her chin put out stubbornly.

"Jason, would you please wait for your sister outside?" Laurence asked, and the boy nodded, obediently closing the door behind him.

"So? What do you want?"

"To apologise," he said heavily. "Listen, Emily… I have been thinking. I have spent this whole week thinking, and even if I was right in what I told you, I feel ashamed of having shouted at you. There is no excuse for that, I was not behaving like a gentleman… a gentleman should never lose his head like I did. I am sorry if I hurt you, Emily."

"Are you sorry about Rumpelstiltskin too?" she asked tartly.

"What? Oh," his eyes widened. "I nearly forgot about that, I suggested it to Jason such a long time ago… was it _this tale_ that made you so mad at him yesterday?"

"Just partly," she said uneasily. There was no way she would admit that Jason had likened her and Laurence to Sleeping Beauty and her prince… "But let us forget about that."

"Are you then accepting my apology?" his face brightened, so much hope and serenity on his features that he looked rather like a little boy than a middle-aged man.

Emily shrugged. "Probably. Is there any use in fighting all the time when you are going to leave soon either way?" Seeing some of the brightness in his eyes fade, she carried on, "Yes, I have heard about Iskierka and the egg. And I must say I am glad to see you go."

He ran a hand across his tousled locks. "Do you know that your mother said the same… when we were first sent to Australia?"

Emily made a grimace. _I have more in common with my mother than you would imagine_, she thought bitterly. "I did not know, but I mean it. I want to be rid of you at last."

"I understand that you do… but you must know that I meant it too when I said I loved you. And… I have a reason to believe you have feelings for me too, only you would never admit that. Do you not think that you should admit it at last, knowing that we are leaving soon? Would it not be better to part with a clear conscience, and not with a lie?"

Emily felt her throat close – how she longed to tell him that she loved him! But she could not and would not. Not even if he looked at her with such pleading puppy eyes… "Honestly, I do not know where you get your delusions, Laurence," she said, forcing as much malice into her voice as possible. "Ever since my mother died, I have not harboured any feelings for you but hatred. Well, perhaps even some contempt and disgust, but that is all, I can assure you."

He heaved a sigh and took a step towards her, his bare feet not making the slightest noise on the floor. "Just a few days ago Temeraire asked me about our… tangled relationship, and I told him I did not want to entertain the hope you might like me in any way because I would only be even more disappointed to find out if I was wrong… so I did not want to ask you about your feelings at all… and I do not really know why I have just done it, it must have been a spur of the moment thing… but I _know_ what I am seeing in your eyes, Emily." He took another step towards her, now dangerously close, but she felt rooted to the spot, she could not have moved away even if she wanted to.

"I have not the faintest idea what you are seeing in my eyes, but you had better get yourself spectacles, old man," she replied through gritted teeth, but he only arched an eyebrow at her and came even closer, an amused little smile on his face.

"My eyes are still working fairly well, but thank you very much for your concern," he said, now so close that her breasts were nearly touching his chest. "My eyes _are_ working fine, and I see you are trembling, Emily. You are trembling with uncertainty, anger… and desire, a dangerous mixture, but a highly… exciting one. You want me. I know you do."

She was taken aback – was he trying to seduce her? William Laurence, _seducing _a woman instead of _letting himself be seduced_? That must be a first… and Emily did not know how to react. "You… you are gravely mistaken," she muttered, a lump in her throat preventing her from talking aloud.

"Are you sure?" he reached out, much less tentatively than usual, and cupped her chin.

Something snapped in Emily and she recoiled, regaining the strength of her voice. "If you were the last man on earth, I would still rather want to be alone than to be with you, you stuck-up, half-witted gaolbird! I loathe you, detest you, you repel me, and… and…" Before she could have found the words to finish her sentence, he closed the distance between them and pulled her to himself, silencing her with a kiss. For a few seconds she tried to push him away, but he was stronger, much stronger than her, and after pummelling his shoulders in an attempt to break free, she gave up and gave in.

She had never thought he would have the gall to forcibly kiss her, he was definitely not the type to inflict himself upon a lady, then again, he had once said he did not consider her a lady – he considered her a woman whom, despite her shortcomings, despite her unbearable nature, he still loved.

_He loves me,_ the thought idly wandered across her mind, but only a very small part of her brain managed to register it, for the bigger part was engaged, overwhelmed by the sensations he was creating within her, his lips moving over hers, his tongue meeting hers in a fervent duel, his hands roaming on her back, and his hips pressed to hers so that she could feel the evidence of his desire through the flimsy textile of their nightshirts.

She did not know why she was letting him kiss her, or why she was kissing him back, but she knew they could not take this to the next level, not with Jason waiting outside; she also knew she would regret this as long as she lived and would hate him for it as soon as their lips parted, but for the time being it felt just right. More than right. Then, there was a snicker coming from the door's direction, and Emily, suddenly aware of what was happening, broke away and slapped Laurence as hard as she could.

Both their eyes shifted to Jason who was chuckling behind the fairy tale book in his hands, and Laurence suddenly turned ruby red, grabbed a pillow and clutched it to his midsection. But it was too late, Jason had noticed.

"Papa, what was that…?"

"There, you have done it," Emily snapped at Laurence, "corrupting your son. Bravo, you should be proud of yourself! You know, at times like these, I tend to wish you were hung, drawn and quartered in the good old fashion… then you would be dead… and most importantly, emasculated! Come on, Jason, we are leaving!"

"But Emily, I want papa to tell me, I'm curious!" the boy protested. "Papa, tell me, please!"

Laurence, redder than Emily had ever seen him, said in a muffled sort of voice, "Go… just go with your sister, Jason."

Emily slammed the door shut behind them, took Jason by the hand, and with deliberate steps, strode down the corridor. There were a few stragglers around already, all of them giving her and her attire curious looks, which she defiantly ignored.

"All right," Jason spoke up after a minute, "then you tell me. What was happening to papa? He isn't ill, is he?"

"No, Jason, he is not, but he will soon wish he were," she muttered under her breath, "and no more talk of this, you hear me?"

Grimacing in disappointment, Jason nodded. "But then at least tell me, what is emas-coolated?"

oOo

After breakfast dragons and captains were once again required to gather on Excidium's clearing, for Admiral Little had announced in the dining room that Captain Roland would be appointing the five dragons for the parade's guarding duty today.

Laurence barely ate anything, he left the table early and hurried out to Temeraire's clearing, hoping to find some time with his dragon alone – time he spent with Temeraire always calmed him a bit.

"Laurence, has something happened?" the dragon asked him after he had announced that they were supposed to appear on Excidium's clearing in half an hour.

"What do you mean?" Laurence said distractedly.

"You look concerned. This is the expression you tend to wear when something bad in connection with Emily happened."

"I never knew I had a special 'Problems With Emily' expression," Laurence said scathingly, "but I must have it if you can read me so well…" Sighing, he leaned against Temeraire's flank. "I have made a mess of it, Temeraire."

"A mess of what?"

"This morning I asked Emily if she had feelings for me… and she said no, but her eyes said yes, so I… kissed her to test it."

"Oh, and was it any good?" Temeraire asked excitedly.

"Yes… very," Laurence muttered with a beatific smile on his face.

"And for her?"

"Well… I think she must have liked it… she kissed me back quite passionately..." Laurence pulled up his legs and propped his chin on his knees. His smile, however, had been replaced by a frown.

"Then pray tell, why do you look so sad? She loves you, does she not?"

"Perhaps. But I might never find out, for Jason walked in on us… and Emily slapped me and ran away again… and I have become tired of this, Temeraire, chasing after her all the time. And in all honesty… I do not even know why I asked her and why I kissed her… I never intended to. It was too spontaneous, too… crazy. Only youngsters are so careless… and I am not young, Temeraire. You would think that by forty-two I should have grown up."

"Hmm, probably… but you know what I have learned from all those books you have read out to me?" the dragon said gently. "I have learned that love makes you do things that you would not do otherwise. Love makes the old young, the ill healthy, and even the sane crazy. Do not blame yourself, dear Laurence… blame Cupid instead!"

Laurence let out a small laugh and shook his head. "It would be too convenient to blame someone else. But it should not really matter that I have made a fool of myself today, right? We are leaving soon, anyway. Little might call me into his office any minute to tell me when the _Allegiance_ is sailing out."

"Pray do not even remind me," Temeraire sighed. "It makes my heart ache to think that all my efforts to keep us here were in vain…"

"What do you mean?" Laurence raised an eyebrow at his dragon.

Temeraire did not even try to look guilty. "I… bribed Iskierka into not mating me for six weeks."

"_What?_"

Temeraire shrugged. "I wanted to delay giving her an egg so that you could stay here with Jason."

Laurence was both shocked and touched. "Then… how come… she is having an egg after all?"

"Well," Temeraire hung his head, "when Emily decided you should dig the pits all by yourself, I was scared that you would work yourself to death… so I thought I would rather give Iskierka the egg and leave England with you as soon as possible before Emily could really kill you… When Emily got this parade assignment, I immediately went to Iskierka and told her to stop mating again so that you could stay in England for some more time, but… it was too late already. I am so sorry, Laurence."

The man felt his throat tighten and had to blink back a tear. "Oh, my dear… never be sorry. What you did was… somewhat traitorous, but… very selfless and heroic. Thank you so much."

Temeraire gently curled around Laurence and nuzzled him. "I only wish my plan had succeeded… but it has not, and now I even have to give her my talon-sheaths."

"Your talon-sheaths?"

"Yes," Temeraire heaved a sigh. "I told you I bribed her. Would you please bring me the talon-sheaths so that I can give them to Iskierka?"

"Yes, my dear, if that is what you wish..."

"Well, I do not _wish to_… but I have to. And pray do not mention this to Granby… I am not sure he would be happy to learn that his dragon was taking part in my traitorous schemes."

"I think Granby would not be very surprised by it. Iskierka was never famous for her obedience."

"But still… let this be our secret. Speak of the devil, is that not Granby over there?"

Said captain approached with an embarrassed grin. "Laurence, may I have a word? Alone?"

"Certainly," Laurence nodded and walked a few dozen yards away from Temeraire. "Has something happened?"

"I could be asking you the same, you ladies' man," the other captain elbowed him playfully. At Laurence's politely dumbfounded expression, he let out a laugh. "It so happens that your little boy caught me after breakfast and asked me a question, because allegedly neither you nor his sister was willing to explain it to him…"

Laurence gulped. "What… what exactly did he ask you?"

Granby seemed to be fighting to keep his facial muscles straight. "Ahem," he cleared his throat. "He asked me what had happened to your body, when you were kissing his sister, because something weird was sticking out down there. He said he thought it might have been your willy, but he was not entirely sure. He claimed that such things happened to him too but his was never big enough to… tent his nightshirt." Granby leaned closer to add confidentially, "I must admit I do not remember if mine used to do this at such a young age… it was a long time ago."

Laurence was redder than the setting sun. "Eh… I seem to remember that mine did… it is quite normal for even little boys, only it is not connected with er… emissions in their age. Heavens," he rolled his eyes, "I never thought I would be having a conversation like this with anyone! Ever!"

"Well, you should start thinking of it, because I did not reply to Jason's question," Granby said with a toothy grin. "I told him he should ask you again."

"You did not!"

"Did too. Old boy," Granby slapped him on the shoulder, "I believe it is time you gave your son the talk."

Laurence shook his head in desperation. "No way! He is too young, he… he would not understand…"

"Or perhaps you have just chickened out."

"I have not! But… he does not need to know yet, he is only five!"

"Five and a half in a month," the other man pointed out.

"Still, it can wait! Why, I was _twelve_ when I found out…" Laurence said with a bashful grimace. "I learned it from the sailors on the first ship I served on. They laughed at my... ignorance."

"See? They laughed at you because you did not know yet! At twelve everyone knows. Honestly, do you want your kid to learn from someone else? Like… from Chenery? You know Chenery, when he is drunk, he talks."

"O God, of course I do not want Jason to learn from Chenery…"

"Then tell him. And the sooner the better. He is an exceptionally clever boy, he will understand."

"Are you sure?"

"No," Granby laughed.

Laurence slapped his forehead and groaned. "At times like these I truly wish I was dead…"

"Oh, come on, he is just a child, he won't bite…"

"No, but he will ask embarrassing questions, which is much, much worse..."

"Laurence," Temeraire spoke up, "I see Emily approaching, we should probably head for Excidium's clearing at last."

"All right, I am coming!" Laurence called back to him and turned his back on Granby to leave, but the other man grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"Hey, and what about that kiss with little Roland, eh?"

"Pray do not even mention it…"

"Was it any good?" Granby moved his eyebrows suggestively.

"That, my friend, is none of your business," Laurence straightened his back and walked back to Temeraire with a silently chuckling Granby in tow.

o

"As I have been commissioned with organising every dragon-aspect of the parade, it is also my task to appoint the guard dragons for the duration of the celebrations," Emily said, her voice firm, her jaw set, looking much more self-confident than Laurence had expected her to after their little morning affair. He had expected her to look pale and send him piercing glances, but she seemed to be ignoring him completely.

"Admiral Little told me just before breakfast that he had received word from the Duke of Wellington concerning the Prince Regent's wishes. As you are all aware, even with the wars over, the country is not in peace, in March the blanketeers caused problems, even some of the dragons from the Manchester covert needed to be employed to disperse them. You might not be aware, though, that just yesterday the army needed to seize protesting labourers marching from Derbyshire to Nottingham. The Prince Regent is expecting riots during the parade, and therefore wishes two of our most fearsome heavy-weights to be placed on either side of the dais he and his esteemed guests will be sitting on."

Emily cast a quick glance around, then went on, "Since there is a substantial chance of rioting, I have decided to appoint two dragons who are famous for their love of a good scrap. Iskierka and Temeraire, if you please."

Iskierka flapped her wings so enthusiastically that she nearly went aloft.

"Calm down, will you?" Granby hissed at her, then turned to Emily. "Captain Roland, my dragon is gravid. She should not place herself in danger in her current condition…"

"But Granby, I am feeling all right, you need not worry…"

"Captain Granby, if your dragon feels up to the task, then I do not see why you should restrict her," Emily replied coldly and Laurence's stomach clenched at the iciness of her voice. She was doing this deliberately, as a revenge against him. Not that he feared for Temeraire's life – Temeraire was large and tough enough to not be hurt in a riot, Laurence still had a nasty sense of premonition. And the worst was that Emily had dragged even Iskierka into it, practically pushing a gravid female in the path of danger – just because Iskierka had something to do with Temeraire _and_ Temeraire was _Laurence's_ dragon. Anger bubbled up in Laurence, but he restrained his anger.

"And you, Captain Laurence, do you accept the assignment?" Emily addressed him, her face completely indifferent.

"Naturally, Captain Roland, I thank you for your trust," he bowed slightly.

"All right," Emily turned away from them. "I need another three dragons, two to be standing on the other bank of the Thames in case the rioters decide to attack by running across the newly built bridge… although I do not see why they would… Never mind. Ivy and Nitidus," she said matter-of-factly, without even asking for the opinion of their handlers. "I also need a courier to be zig-zagging in the air over the dais, but keeping clear of the path of the ones performing the aerial parade..."

"Me! Me!" Volly started jumping.

"All right, Volatilus, then. Captain James, I trust you have sharp enough eyes to notice anything out of the ordinary from above…?"

"My eyes are like those of a hawk," James replied and patted Volly's flank to calm him, for the little Winchester had started hyperventilating in his excitement over having being chosen.

"Temrer! Temrer! We _are_ going parade!"

oOo

Laurence had tried to avoid staying alone with Jason in the next few days, fearing the boy might repeat his earlier question, therefore in their usual 'father and son hours' in the afternoons he either took Jason flying on Temeraire and made sure Temeraire would engage the boy's attention enough so that Jason would forget about addressing awkward topics, or he took his son into Dover to visit his mother. Lady Allendale, however, left Dover two days before Laurence and Temeraire had to leave for London, making it even harder for Laurence to make up activities for Jason that would make the boy forget about asking embarrassing questions.

He had somehow managed to get through the six days following the morning kissing affair without Jason repeating the question, and thought that the boy had eventually forgotten about it, until the dawn of the sixteenth of June when he was awoken by a knock on the door.

He found Jason standing outside, yawning and shivering slightly in the early morning chill. "Couldn't sleep," Jason said, his little face looking sad as he entered and slipped under the covers of his father's bed. Laurence joined him in the bed, trying to offer his son as much warmth as possible.

"Papa, you are leaving for days now, aren't you?"

"Yes, Jason, but we will be back soon, four days at most."

"But you are leaving after that… for ever," Jason pouted. "If Iskierka lays the egg, that is."

Laurence sighed. "Yes, Jason, I fear that is indeed so, but that will not happen for another three weeks, I have heard the _Allegiance_ is to sail out at the beginning of July. We still have each other, son."

"But I don't want you to go… at all!" Jason buried his face in Laurence's chest and started crying.

"Shhh… Jason… we have talked about this, have we not?" Laurence gently caressed the boy's fair hair. "We will be writing to each other…"

"But that won't be like having you here!" Jason blubbered. "I wish something happened to make you stay! Anything!"

"Me too," the man replied absent-mindedly, and fished a finely folded handkerchief out of the drawer of his bedside table. "Here, blow your nose and dry your tears. Big boys do not cry."

Jason obeyed, then asked, sniffing, "If I'm a big boy, then I'm supposed to know things at last, don't I?"

Laurence felt a lump rise in his throat. "Er… I think so."

"Then tell me about mating," Jason sat up, his chin put out, and for a moment he looked frighteningly like Emily had had on several occasions – perhaps that was what _Jane_ had looked like as a child when she had set her mind on something.

Laurence wondered how Jason could remember a sentence that had been said almost two months earlier out by the cliffs... Children of five years usually forgot things so quickly… Laurence himself, of course, remembered it well: Iskierka had urged Temeraire to mate, and Jason had enquired what it was, but neither Granby nor Laurence had been willing to explain, saying Jason was too young for that. At times like these Laurence wondered if his son was some sort of a child prodigy… but besides the pride he felt, he felt embarrassment as well, and his embarrassment was overshadowing his pride; something he knew to be not right, but something he could do nothing against.

With a sigh, he submitted himself to the unavoidable.

"Oh," Jason frowned after several minutes of listening in silence. "So that is what Pasiphae did with a bull? How icky!"

Laurence felt his cheeks burn – the story of Pasiphae was just another thing he had not thought Jason would remember and address in the current situation. "Er… well… yes, but that is just a tale, you know. The minotaur never existed."

"But people exist, and so do dragons," Jason said, his lips pursed in a way that suggested he was deep in thought. He looked so unbelievably precocious that Laurence felt an urge to laugh, but held back. He was not sure if he would not hurt his son if he did, not to mention that the child had a lot to process right now. He only hoped the information had not overwhelmed Jason's mind. Jason, however, continued as though nothing had happened, "And if they do, then it means that all of them came to be… like that. Even Iskierka's egg, right? She did it with Temeraire."

Laurence could only nod.

"And you did it with my mother," Jason gave him a searching look. "You two mated too."

"Yes," Laurence said uneasily, "but when humans do it… you should not call it… mating. It is called making love, or sleeping with or lying with or…"

"Lying with?" Jason's eyes widened. "So you did it with Emily too!?"

Laurence was taken aback. How did Jason guess…? Then he suddenly remembered: almost two weeks earlier, before Jason had asked him and Emily to shake hands to pledge their cease-fire, he had overheard their exchange, and in that exchange Laurence had snapped at Emily that he had only lain with her because he had thought they were going to die.

"So, did you or did you not?" Jason enquired, his head cocked.

Undoubtedly, the boy had inherited his mother's brains, Laurence concluded, as _he_ had never been this clever… Swallowing hard, he said, "Y…yes. I did."

"So then you two really love each other!" Jason clasped his hands. "That's why you were kissing! But… papa… are you not too old for Emily?"

Laurence hid his face in his palms. "I am, Jason. And please, do not mention this to anyone. No one may find out, ever."

"What may others not find out? That I know how babies and dragonets are made, or that you lay with Emily?"

"The latter, Jason," Laurence felt beads of sweat run down the sides of his face. "The latter."

"Oh, all right, I won't tell," the boy shrugged. "I think I'd better go, I don't want to miss breakfast! Take care in London, papa, and come back quick!" He pressed a kiss on his father's cheek and slipped out from under the covers. He was already at the door when he turned back, a small frown on his face. "But it's a pity you didn't give Emily a baby. I would have liked to have a little brother!" With that he pushed the handle and was outside, leaving a dumbstruck Laurence behind.

'_But it's a pity you didn't give Emily a baby.'_

_But… what if I did?_ he thought, all the blood running out of his face_. She has been sick for weeks… without no apparent reason… O God… could it be possible?_

o

He could not ask Emily though, because she and her formation of parade-fliers left right after breakfast for London while Temeraire and the other four dragons appointed for guard duty were only to leave in the afternoon on Little's orders. Little had claimed that the parade-fliers had yet to get acquainted with the site they were about to fly over while the guard dragons only had to assume their places before the parade and stay put all along unless something out of the ordinary happened.

Laurence, Granby and the other three captains and their dragons reached the London covert around midnight, and Laurence tried in vain to approach Emily over breakfast the next day – her formation turned out to have left earlier, they had probably even missed breakfast entirely. This only reassured Laurence in his belief that Emily could not be pregnant – surely she would not put herself in danger's way and would not miss meals when her body needed nourishment more than any other time…? Then again, aviators never proved to be particularly caring mothers, Catherine Harcourt being the worst example of that… What if Emily truly was expecting but did not care for her and the baby's health?

Now that he kept thinking and trying to recall every possible sign that might confirm his suspicions of Emily's condition, he could not help but realise that something she had snapped at him after his night with Edith, might have meant something else than what he had then believed.

'_She reassured me that she was no longer fertile,'_ he had said, referring to Edith, and Emily had replied, _'Good for her!_' At that time, Laurence had thought she had meant Jane, but… now these three short words had a wholly different meaning. Emily might have referred to herself.

Sighing, Laurence banished the thought. He would ask her after the parade, he only had to wait a little more than twenty-four hours…

oOo

To Granby's utter horror Iskierka appeared the next morning wearing Temeraire's golden talon-sheaths. "What are you thinking, decorating yourself like that?! We are not going to a ball, for crying out loud! We are not even on the flying formation, we are here to stand guard by a dais!" he shouted at his dragon.

"Oh, but I have heard that this Prince Regent likes opulence, so he would surely like to have a good-looking dragon next to his dais," she replied aloofly.

"But… are those not _Temeraire's_ talon-sheaths?" Granby asked with knitted eyebrows.

"They _used to be_ his," Iskierka said with the air of a princess. "He gave them to me… because he _loves me_ so much, do you not, Temmie, dear?"

"Do not call me Temmie," Temeraire grunted, and went aloft.

After a ten-minute flight from the covert situated on the outskirts of London they touched down on the square by Somerset House. The square was dominated by the dais and the rows of seats on it, the gilded throne of the Prince Regent positioned in the centre. A baldachin of curtains of deep purple velvet was constructed over the rows of seats, providing some shelter against rain, and the royal coat of arms of the House of Hanover glinted on top of the baldachin.

"Well, that is handsome," Temeraire observed, his earlier grouchiness over Iskierka wearing his talon-sheaths mostly gone by now. He looked around enthusiastically. The square was still deserted save for a few organisers, who, apparently, had been trained not to fear dragons or at least pretend not to fear them. Temeraire wondered how the rest of the crowd would react upon spotting them, and hoped that they would not be scared away, but also hoped that the dragon-presence would also keep any rioters away.

He did not find Waterloo Bridge nearly as handsome as the dais or Somerset House next to it, as it was a granite bridge with nine arches, each of one hundred and twenty feet span, separated by double Grecian-Doric stone columns. He had seen prettier bridges in China, even in Istanbul.

He and Iskierka quickly assumed their places on both sides of the dais and submitted themselves to boredom. Occasionally Temeraire would point out things he found interesting to Laurence: ships on the Thames, groups of people approaching with worried glances at the dragons, Nitidus and Ivy standing equally bored at the other end of the bridge, and Volly flying circles above. For a short while it seemed to him that Volly had disappeared, but he assumed the little dragon had just touched down on top of a building for a bit of a rest. Temeraire decided not to even bring it Laurence's attention as they still had a whole hour before the start of the ceremony and he was confident that Volly would return shortly. He had been right: soon Volly reappeared and continued his circles above.

Slowly both banks of the Thames filled with people, although they tried to give the dragons as wide a berth as possible. Temeraire delighted himself in observing the elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen as they took their places on the seats upon the dais.

"That lady has a beautiful set of rubies," he murmured to Laurence. "And that over there… a necklace of aquamarine! But I like the emeralds most."

Some heads turned in their direction, both shocked and curious but Temeraire did not notice – his attention was already elsewhere engaged.

"Hey, is that not old Wellesley?" he asked from Laurence as a highly familiar figure emerged from a carriage and walked down the red carpet to the dais.

"Shhh!" Laurence pressed his index finger to his lips.

"But that _is_ him, is it not?"

"Yes, it is, but he is called the Duke of Wellington now, but pray be silent, I am sure he would not be happy if we caused him any problem again…"

Temeraire's words, however, did not seem to escape Wellington's ears, and he gave them a fleeting look of recognition, then turned away haughtily.

The Prince Regent arrived shortly before eleven and Temeraire had to hold back a remark that was on the tip of his tongue regarding the prince's appearance; Iskierka, however, did not bother to restrain herself and Temeraire suspected that her comment 'Why, he is indeed fat' could be heard even by the people on the other bank of the Thames. Granby first reddened then his complexion turned ashen and he looked like someone who was wishing to disappear from the face of earth.

The Prince Regent, however, did not pay Iskierka any attention and kept his face straight, for which Temeraire could only admire him, even if he _did not_ admire him for his repute of being a nasty womaniser. Laurence at least had not committed adultery in sleeping with that Edith person, but this prince had allegedly cheated on his wife with dozens of women, Temeraire only did not understand why a woman would want to mate with a man as unpleasant-looking as him. Laurence was a different matter, Temeraire thought his captain looked quite handsome and nicely built with no surplus of weight. Yes, he thought as he regarded the Prince Regent, he could be very proud of his Laurence, in every respect.

An hour of utter boredom followed: first the Duke of Wellington, then the Lord Mayor of Westminster and finally the Prince Regent himself rose to deliver their equally long and tiresome speeches, and more than once Temeraire felt his eyelids droop.

Finally, around one in the afternoon the prince declared Waterloo Bridge open and announced that he had a little surprise for the people of London, a spectacle such as they had never seen before. "Please stay in your seats or where you are standing, and do not be frightened, just enjoy the present We, the Prince of Wales, Regent by God's mercy, are giving you," he said, and beckoned to a soldier to fire a red signal for the dragons to come.

"Oh, Excidium and the others are coming at last!" Temeraire said, his eyes fixed upon the seven dots in the distance, quickly approaching.

The crowd first shrieked, then oohed and aaaahed as the seven dragons whooshed above them, making flips and turns and corkscrews in perfect unison. Temeraire had to give it to Emily, she had made an excellent job of planning and organising the aerial parade, and the execution was simply breathtaking. "Well, I hope this brings dragons a little closer to the citizens," he said in a hushed voice to Laurence, but this time he was sure his voice had not carried half a mile as the crowd's cheering muffled most of it. "It would be nice if they saw us as more than just frightening beasts… Wellesley realised we were indeed sentient beings, but I am not sure the average citizen sees it like that… but this parade might change their views of us."

"I hope you are right, Temeraire," Laurence said with a smile, although his smile seemed kind of forced, as though he were concerned about something, unable to completely enjoy the show. Temeraire decided to question him later about it, although he suspected it must have something to do with Iskierka's egg and their ever-approaching departure. He remembered just how sad Laurence had looked when he and Jason had returned from Dover on the fourteenth of June, Laurence having said good-bye to his mother. He would never have a chance to meet the gentle Lady Allendale again, and Temeraire's heart ached for his captain.

"Laurence," the dragon said all of a sudden, "what do you think Volly is doing? And Captain James? Should they not be circling a little to the right…?"

"What?" Laurence frowned and held his spyglass to his eyes. "That… that is not even Captain James on Volly!"

"No?" Temeraire gasped, straining his eyes to see better, but even if his vision was far clearer than Laurence's, Laurence saw more detail with his spyglass than Temeraire without it.

"The prince," Laurence muttered. "Temeraire, do someth…"

The dragon would have obliged, had he known what Laurence meant, but Volly was too far away to make out what he and his handler were doing, and before Temeraire could have done anything, there was a bang of a shot and Laurence fell from his back, onto the dais.

"Laurence!" the dragon roared, but his captain did not move, a red rose of blood blossoming on the back of his bottle-green cloak, the Prince Regent's body trapped beneath him. And then he understood: Laurence had not been shot from his back, the target had been the prince, and Laurence realised this too late, not having a single second to explain to Temeraire what was to be done, and had acted on his own, jumping upon the prince to push him down and out of the way of the bullet.

And by the look of him, Temeraire realised, feeling an imaginary lance stabbed into his heart, Laurence was dead.

oOo

**A/N:** to cheer you up, soon I'm going to come out with a slightly crazy Temeraire crossover fic titled _A Chinese Prince in New Orleans_. It's crossed over with a fairly new animated movie. Can you guess what?

The quote from Rumpelstiltskin comes from Wikipedia.

**Historical notes: **

1. Blanketeers was the nickname of about 5000 operatives who on the 10th March, 1817 met in St. Peters Field, near Manchester, to march to London, each carrying blankets or rugs. Their object was to see the Prince Regent and lay their grievances before him.

2. On the 9th June, 1817 the army indeed had to prevent labourers from Derbyshire marching on to Notthingham.

(source: Wikipedia. Yes, again.)

**If you have read so far and endured the extreme length of the chapter, then be so kind and LEAVE A REVIEW! :)**


	14. Stronger Than Hatred

**A/N: I originally wanted to update tomorrow or Thursday, but since you've been urging me so much in your reviews, here's the next chapter, earlier than I intended. :) See, what your willingness to provide feedback does to me? ;) Just keep being so responsive in the future, please! Your responsiveness is truly delightful, especially in such a tiny fandom as this one! *hugs readers***

I have another reason as well to feel delighted: day by day I meet more and more people who support LaurEmily! In the past few weeks I've met some on deviantart too, thanks to the brand new Temeraire fanart group that Gryphonia and I founded there. It's called **TemeraireFans**, btw, in case you'd like to join. Soon we are going to host fanfiction too, not only fanart. :)

Also, I was very pleasantly surprised to find out that I'm no longer the only person who _writes _LaurEmily – **_Nimbus Llewelyn_** does too! Check out his fanfic, _April 1811, _which is – besides being L/E – absolutely hilarious with an extremely straightforward Emily and voyeuristic dragons! XD

**Chapter 14**

**Stronger Than Hatred**

"…and he has been taken to Buckingham House, where, on the Prince Regent's orders, the best doctors will be taking care of him… although, according to Wellington, there is not much of a chance for recovery," Admiral Little droned. He, who had taken part in the parade as Wellington's personal guest, had talked to the duke right after the assassination attempt and had just returned to the London covert to inform his anxious subordinates of the latest developments.

"Buckingham House?" Granby asked.

"The residence of the old Queen Charlotte," Little explained. "A peaceful place, ideal for an invalid to heal. _If_ he heals at all…" He shook his head. "Apparently his lungs have been injured and he has lost lots of blood. A wonder he was still alive when they took him away, and an even greater wonder he was alive when they arrived at Buckingham House. I can tell you no more than that."

Emily had listened to the admiral's report without a single word, standing at the back of the room like a marble statue, too stiff to move. Her heart felt just as stiff as the rest of her body – she was not sure it was beating properly any more. It felt as though she had been petrified, unable to think, unable to feel, unable to act. She had processed all the information about the assassin with surprising stoicism – it had turned out that Dayes, once a lieutenant of the Corps, having left the Corps after his failure at luring the hatchling Temeraire to himself, had become involved in the demonstrations against the Prince Regent. He and his people had apparently been planning to start a revolution through the murder of the prince.

Their plan included using one of the guard dragons and using it at a moment when everyone's attention was engaged by the parade-fliers. Dayes had been the only one of the protesters capable of handling a dragon, therefore the task of capturing one and shooting the prince from the air had fallen to him. He had managed to lure the poor, retarded Volly into an alley with a fine, delicious-looking cow. Captain James, more often than not incapable of restraining his beast when it came to the matter of meals, had been seized by Dayes and his accomplices, and Volly had been forced into letting Dayes captain him for a short while with the threat that Langford James would be killed if he did not obey.

To Emily the whole story felt like a tale, a horror tale, and had she and those under her command not seen the events with their own eyes just as their parade had drawn to an end and had they not captured Volatilus and the assassin 'captain' themselves, she probably would not have believed it. But it was all true: Dayes had been a traitor, now awaiting his execution, and poor Captain James had been murdered by Dayes' friends upon the failure of the attack, leaving a heart-broken Volly behind, who was very likely to be sent to the breeding grounds.

Emily, however, did not feel sorry for Volly – not when his accursed gluttony had caused Laurence to receive a mortal wound. The only dragon she felt sorry for was Temeraire – he was undoubtedly waiting outside, having crammed himself into the small open area before the barracks building, anxious to hear news about his beloved captain.

"In spite of the tragedy, the Prince Regent wished to let us know that the aerial parade was excellent and asked me to pass on his congratulations to all participants, Captain Roland in particular," Little carried on, his voice tired and his face suggesting that he was not in the least pleased by the royal praise. "Our work here is done, gentlemen. We are leaving tomorrow morning for Dover. That is all for today."

Slowly the other captains drifted out, and Catherine Harcourt gave Emily a compassionate look before she exited. There had been so much in the other woman's eyes: sadness, understanding, and perhaps even a silent nudge to… to do what, exactly? – Emily wondered.

Granby too gave her a knowing look, although Emily did not know _what_ he might have known – surely Harcourt had not told him about her condition?

With a soft click Granby closed the door behind him, leaving Emily alone with Little.

"Yes, Roland?" Little turned to her, his expression both curious and exhausted. It was clear that the only thing he wished to see for the time being was his bed and probably a glass of port. "Can I do something for you?"

"Yes, sir. I would like to ask you for some leave."

"Some leave?" Little arched an eyebrow at her. "Why?"

"I…" Emily took a step towards him, feeling as if she had been a block of ice that had just melted out, her limbs still too stiff to move properly. "I need to see Laurence."

Little's eyebrow rose even higher. "But why?"

Emily had been holding back so far, her thoughts and feelings pushed to the back of her mind, buried, frozen, but now the crust of ice had cracked and all emotions erupted out of her like a volcano, "Because I love him and I'm expecting his child, that's why!"

Little's eyes bulged, making him look like a toad – a sophisticated, well-dressed toad, but a toad nevertheless. "You… _what_?"

"I… I…" Emily no longer managed to stand upright, her legs finally gave way and she collapsed into an armchair, her body convulsing with sobs.

Little awkwardly patted her on the shoulder – apparently he was not used to trying to console his subordinates. "Well… that is… highly unexpected," he muttered after a while, and Emily looked up, wiping her tears.

"Please, forgive me for losing my head, Admiral," she sniffed, standing up, only to be gently pushed back into the chair.

"It happens to everyone, Roland," the man shook his head. "It happened even to your mother, and she was the most composed person I ever met. You have more in common with her than I imagined… Laurence, eh? I thought you hated him."

"I thought I did too, sir. But… I think I never really did," Emily replied in a shaky voice – it was weird to say it aloud that she had never hated Laurence; she had more or less admitted it to herself in thought, but having said it aloud had somehow finalised it, made it irrevocable. "May I go and see him?" When the admiral remained silent, Emily carried on, her voice less shaky, her chin put out. "Surely the Corps can spare me for a week or two?"

"I believe the Corps can spare you for a few _months_, Roland," Little replied with a sigh.

"But…"

"I hope you do not wish to carry on serving in your condition? Honestly, Captain, I am shocked to even think you took on this whole parade assignment when you knew you were pregnant! Now at least I understand why you have been so sickly… silly girl," he tutted, but there was more gentleness in his voice than Emily had ever heard from this impassive and unapproachable man. "I remember your mother served till the end of her seventh month… I have no doubt that was what killed her. Of course, England was at a war back then, she must have thought she could not be spared… but she paid too great a price for her patriotism. I do not wish to lose you too, Roland. And I especially do not wish to lose Excidium. You are exempted from duty until the child is born, so you are free to do with your time as you please… you may even try to visit Laurence, although I do not think they will let you in."

Emily gave him a hopeful look. "Could you not pull a few strings, sir?"

"You overestimate the power of my connections, Roland," Little said dryly. "I have some influence on Wellington, but none on the Queen. However, I suggest you try at least, I wish you the best of luck… and I hope that by some miracle Laurence survives… even if you two could not start a life together."

"I know we could not," Emily said heavily, dabbing at her nose with a handkerchief. "Sir, would you please send Jason here by a courier? I am sure he would like to see his father… even if only to… say good-bye."

"I will send him here," Little nodded, and Emily gave him a grateful smile, rising from her seat to leave.

"Roland…?" Little called after her.

"Yes, sir?"

"It was the tunnel, was it not?"

"What, sir?" Emily tried to look politely confused.

"Pray do not give me that clueless look, Roland… and especially do not try to look innocent. Both you and Laurence seemed uneasy when you gave me your report of the cliff incident. At least now I know why."

Emily gave him a crooked grin. "All right, sir, no trying to look innocent. It happened in the tunnel… and it was bloody amazing."

o

"Hey, chin up, old boy, he is not dead… yet," Iskierka said, gently nudging Temeraire with her muzzle. Temeraire did not know how she had managed to squeeze herself into the small clearing he was currently occupying right before the barracks – it seemed too tiny for one heavy-weight, let alone two.

"We cannot be sure," he sighed. "He was taken hours ago and we have not received any news on his condition… I am worried sick."

"I know what you feel," she murmured compassionately. "I too was worried sick when the French took my Granby and I could not be sure they had not harmed him in any way…"

"You at least had the hope that they _might not have_ harmed your captain… I know for sure that Laurence _has been_ shot," Temeraire hung his head. "I do not dare imagine what would become of me without him… It was horrible to think he was dead the first time around… I am not sure I could take it again."

"It would be hard," she agreed, "but you are strong, Temeraire… and you have friends to help you through it. You have me too."

He gave her a doubtful look. "You, Iskierka?"

"Why, are we not friends… despite all the arguing?" she asked in a half-challenging, half-gentle voice, and there was an almost amused glint in her eyes.

"I think so." He bent his head onto her neck. "It is good to have you here… as a friend. No more than that, obviously…"

"Of course no more than that, I mean, who would be attracted to _you_," she snorted, but rubbed her muzzle against his neck, her gestures in sharp contrast to her words. "Hey, is that not little Roland over there?"

It was indeed Emily, approaching with deliberate steps.

"Temeraire, I have been allowed by the admiral to stay in London," she announced, her voice a little shakier than her steps.

"Why?" he asked.

"To see Laurence. And to take Jason to him. Little has sent a courier for Jason, he should be here by tomorrow evening. I am off to see Laurence right now. I will bring you news as soon as I can." With that she reached out and patted the dragon's flank. "Hold out, Temeraire. Be strong for him."

Temeraire stared at the girl, shocked. Was this the same quarrelsome, revengeful Emily who had caused poor Laurence so much pain? "What happened to you?" was all he managed to blurt out.

"What do you mean?" she asked absent-mindedly.

"You _know_ I mean… you are no longer nasty."

Emily made an embarrassed grimace. "I used to be very nasty, didn't I?"

"Yes, very," Temeraire nodded.

"Downright bitchy, if you ask me," Iskierka added.

"Thanks," Emily said dryly.

"Oh, hush, Iskierka!" Temeraire grunted at her. "So, Emily… pray tell, what happened? Why do you want to see Laurence all of a sudden? I thought you hated him…"

Emily's lips trembled as she replied, "I never really did. Or even if I did… I think my love for him was always stronger than my hatred."

"Your… love?" the dragon breathed. "Oh! So you do love him, that is why you asked him to mate with you!"

"What?" Iskierka's eyes widened. "You asked Laurence to mate with you?"

"Why not shout it from the rooftops?" Emily snapped with her arms akimbo, and Temeraire would have blushed if dragons had been capable of that sort of thing. He had once again forgotten that even the whispered words of a heavy-weight could be heard from at least a hundred yards, and he had not been whispering at all. Even at this late afternoon hour the covert was bustling with people, and upon hearing the dragons' words, most of those within a hundred-yard radius had stopped in their tracks and were looking in their direction, some of them even had their mouths hanging open.

"Oh, shut your mouth, Berkley, will you?" Emily snapped at the elderly captain who obeyed, but his eyes remained bulging. "As to your question, Temeraire… yes, I do love your captain. Madly and passionately."

"Well, I can imagine that… otherwise you would not have clawed at his back…"

Emily rolled her eyes. "Could we please discuss my sexual life some other time… when Laurence is doing better already?" There was desperation in her voice, and Temeraire thought it was not due to the fact that half of the covert was now aware that she had slept with Laurence and had scratched at his back in the process, but due to her fear of Laurence dying.

"Oh dear… you really do love him," he observed, and on an instinct curled his tail around the girl and pulled her to himself. She yelped in surprise, but once she was pressed up to Temeraire's muzzle, she gladly cuddled up to him like she had done in her childhood. Temeraire felt her small body trembling in the coils of his tail and sensed something wet and warm on his skin – she was crying.

"Yes, Temeraire," she sniffed, disentangling herself from his embrace. "And if everyone already knows everything, I do not think I could get any more ashamed… so you should know one last thing. Laurence has given me an egg."

Temeraire could not have described the feeling that engulfed him now – a mixture of joy, hope and pride with a hint of worry. "An egg…? You are having Laurence's egg! Oh, Emily…" He gave the girl the gentlest smile a dragon could muster, but his smile faded in an instant as a question popped into his mind. "But… he does not know that, does he?"

Emily shook her head. "No, but I want him to know. I wanted to hide it from him, but… everything has changed. My whole world has been turned upside down… and I am ashamed to say that he needed to be shot for it to happen. I am so afraid, Temeraire… so afraid I will not have a chance to ask for his forgiveness…"

"I think he has long forgiven you," the dragon replied, "for everything. Because he loves you."

"But I want to hear it from him… and what if it is too late…?"

"It is never too late," Temeraire said, realising that now it was he who breathed courage into Emily like Iskierka had done with him mere minutes ago. "Have faith, Emily."

"Yes, Emily, have faith," Iskierka agreed.

"Have faith, girl. Laurence is a tough man, he will surely survive if anyone can," Berkley called to her from the edge of the clearing. He naturally could not have heard what Emily had been telling the dragons, but he and everyone else around had clearly heard the dragons' replies.

"An egg, eh?" Granby stepped to them, a hint of mischief on his otherwise tired face. "Apparently Laurence is very good at two things: saving crown princes and getting you Roland women pregnant."

"One more word, Granby, and you will see that _I _am very good at breaking people's noses," Emily snapped, then turned back to Temeraire. "I am going now. I will let you know as soon as I hear something… and should Jason arrive when I am away, please, take him under your wing."

Temeraire's voice could not have been softer as he said, "You can count on me, Emily."

oOo

The early evening found Emily before the gate of Buckingham House, in a heated debate with one of the guards.

"I am sorry, Miss, but I may not let you in," the man said, giving her and her aviator uniform a condescending look.

"But do you not understand that I _must _see him?!"

"We do understand, Miss, but since you cannot prove you are a relative of his and that you are not here with intentions to assassinate Her Majesty the Queen, we cannot let you enter," the other guard replied.

Emily felt sick with worry, anger, and the horrible feeling of powerlessness. The love of her life was dying inside, probably just a few dozen metres away, and these two idiots were denying her a chance to see him…

She blinked back a tear. _Love of my life?_ – she thought bitterly. Just a few weeks earlier she had thought she hated him with all her heart, and now… Sometimes it indeed takes you losing or almost losing someone to realise how much that person means to you. _And just to think that only two stupid guards are standing between Laurence and me…_

Emily felt like punching the guards, and she had no doubt she could incapacitate at least one of them if she tried, but she did not deem it sensible to engage two men in a fight, at least not in her current condition.

"I am William Laurence's friend," she said through gritted teeth, "and he saved the Prince Regent! Do you think _I_ would try and murder the Queen?"

"One can never be careful enough," one of the guards replied stoically. "Assassins are lurking in every bush…"

Emily's hands were now practically itching to ball into fists and meet the guards' noses in a most violent fashion, but she was holding back. If she started a fight, there was no way they would let her in, ever.

"Then at least… could you please go and enquire about his condition? I shall be waiting here…"

The guards grunted. "We may not leave our post, Miss."

Emily was at the end of her tether. She was running into dead-ends, no matter where she turned, what she tried… Suddenly she felt the usual stab in her belly and hoped beyond hope it was just another sign of nervousness and not a sign of the baby being ill or her losing it. She could not lose it, not when she might have already lost its father…

Squeezing her eyes shut, Emily propped herself against the wall by the gate and massaged her abdomen, willing herself to calm down. She had to make up something… anything, to get inside.

At that moment an elderly woman stepped to her, and addressed her in a gentle voice, "Are you feeling all right, my dear?"

Emily opened her eyes and gasped. "Lady Allendale?"

The old woman gave her a sad smile. "I expect you are here for the same reason as I am."

Emily nodded jerkily. "But they won't let us in."

"Perhaps they will," Laurence's mother said and turned to the guards. "I am the Dowager Countess of Allendale here to see my wounded son, William Laurence. You surely would not deny an old lady a chance to visit her ill… probably even dying, son?"

Emily could not help but admire Lady Allendale's composure – any other mother would be shaking with sobs upon hearing that her child was dying…

"I am afraid, my lady, that we are not authorised to let anyone enter," one of the guards drawled.

Emily lost her head. "Hang your authorisation, we have to see Laurence! This lady is his mother, for crying out loud, and I am…"

"You are…?" the guard arched an eyebrow at her, and Emily found she had no idea what she would have said if she had had the opportunity to say anything – what was she to Laurence, after all? Not a friend as she had claimed earlier… what then? His enemy, his lover, the mother of his child… all of these for sure, but she could not mention either of these to the guards, and definitely not when Laurence's mother was around to hear.

"What is this commotion, gentlemen?" a shaky voice called, and through the wrought-iron bars of the gate Emily spotted an elderly lady in the courtyard beyond, probably even older than Lady Allendale.

The guards straightened their backs in salute. "Your Majesty, these ladies wish to enter to see a certain William Laurence."

"Your… Majesty?" Emily gasped, and saw that Lady Allendale had already lowered herself into a curtsey. Emily, lacking a skirt to properly curtsey with, bowed as deep as she could.

"William Laurence?" the Queen said, stepping closer. "Is he not that young man who saved the Prince Regent's life from the assassin?"

"He is, Your Majesty, and he is my son," Lady Allendale said, trembling in her curtsey. Emily thought to herself that it should be very difficult for a woman over seventy years of age to remain in this position for long.

Queen Charlotte beckoned to Lady Allendale to straighten. "Your son is a brave man…" she looked expectantly at the other elderly woman, who hastily introduced herself.

"I am the Dowager Countess of Allendale, at your service, Your Majesty."

"Pleased to meet you, dear Countess," the Queen nodded, then turned to Emily who was still frozen in a bow and with a wave of her hand signalled that she too may straighten. "And you, my child?"

"I…" Emily felt herself redden, but Lady Allendale saved her by saying, "She is family too, Your Majesty."

"A female aviator on the family of a countess?" the Queen seemed surprised.

"She is not our blood relation, Your Majesty," Laurence's mother said. "She is Captain Roland… my son's fiancée."

Emily had to hold back a gasp – she would never have imagined the noble Lady Allendale to lie in the face of the Queen, and about something as… delicate as this!

The Queen, however, did not seem to notice the deceit, and smiled at Lady Allendale. "Your son saved mine, and I can never be grateful enough for that. I do hope that he survives, we are doing everything in our power to help him, the best physicians of the royal court are taking care of him. From now on," she turned to the guards, "remember and make sure that your relief knows as well that Lady Allendale and Captain Roland are allowed to enter in order to visit the invalid William Laurence as often as they wish. A guard has to escort them to the patient's room each time and wait for them outside. _This_ is my wish."

The guards saluted and opened the gates for the two women.

o

The candles lit all around the room cast ghostly shadows on the walls as the doctor and the nurses rose from the bedside and left. Emily's throat constricted upon seeing Laurence lying on his stomach, his back heavily bandaged. Even in the golden light of the candles his face seemed white, a bit greyish, a telltale sign of severe blood-loss.

Emily gulped and licked her lips to realise they were salty – apparently she had started crying without having noticed. She remained standing as Lady Allendale sank onto the bed, and saw that the elderly woman's hands were shaking as she ran her fingers across her son's unruly locks and down the side of his face. There were tears glinting in Lady Allendale's eyes too – tears she had so far managed to hold back. "Oh, Will…" she muttered. "Why do you always have to play the hero?"

"If you allow me, my lady," Emily spoke up in a wavering voice, "your son would not be himself if he were not ready any time to sacrifice himself for what he believed to be the greater good."

Lady Allendale gave her a watery smile. "I know, my dear, and I am proud of him for that… but a mother's heart is still a mother's heart… it endures a lot, but there are pains it cannot take without breaking. Will has broken my heart more times than a mother could take... My elder sons never broke my heart… it was always my little Will who did."

"Yes… I can imagine that," Emily muttered, touched by the term of endearment the lady had used for her son. Emily had often heard that women tended to look at their children as children even when they were grown up. _Will I too think of Jason as a child in ten or twenty years? And of my baby? _– she wondered. The mere thought of her baby growing up with the knowledge that its father had died before it was even born made her throat close and tears prickle her eyes again. Swallowing, she stepped closer and spoke up, just to say something, anything, to take her thoughts off the baby and her misery. "How did you find out about him being here, my lady? Were you there at the parade?"

"No, my dear… parades are not for me," Lady Allendale shook her head, some of her white locks escaping her bun. "But Lord and Lady Galman were there, among the Prince Regent's guests. Lady Galman told me what happened. I think… it is fortunate that their daughter left for Canada a few weeks ago… she would have been devastated to find out what happened to Will…"

"Their daughter?" Emily choked, remembering well that Laurence's 'lover' had allegedly left for Canada. "You mean… Edith Woolvey?"

"Yes, that lovely young woman…" Lady Allendale nodded, her eyes distant, a small smile gracing her lips as though she were recalling a pleasant memory. "She and Will used to be engaged before Will became an aviator, did you know?

"No, my lady," Emily said bitterly. Now she could well imagine what Laurence's mother must have remembered: her son walking hand in hand with Edith Galman at Wollaton Hall, and she hoping to see them getting married… "I did not know that."

The countess regarded her with a curious, searching look, and for a moment Emily wondered if her voice had revealed more than it should have.

Lady Allendale turned back to her son and gently swept a few locks of greying blond hair out of his face. Emily saw that his forehead was beading with sweat and imagined his skin to be hot with fever. Hot and sweaty, like that time in the tunnel…

She shuddered and looked away, ashamed of herself. How could she be thinking of their most intimate moments when he was dying? She felt angry at herself, disappointed with herself, and yet she could not help it, she longed to touch him, to kiss him… to tell him how much she loved him… to beg for his forgiveness… and to tell him she was expecting his child… but she could not, not with his mother present!

"I thought you loathed my son," Lady Allendale said out of the blue. "Temeraire said you two were endlessly fighting…"

Emily felt her cheeks burn. "I was mad at your son, my lady, for… for leaving my mother in trouble. For years I even blamed him for her death… but now I know I was unfair with him. He did not kill my mother… I wish I could tell him that I see things differently now…"

Lady Allendale reached out and took Emily's hand. "Perhaps you will be able to tell him… if the Lord allows, he will heal. Let us pray for him, shall we?"

Emily had never prayed for anyone, she did not really know how it was done in the first place, but she nodded and clutched her hands, imitating Lady Allendale.

"Holy Virgin," the old woman spoke up, her voice quiet and shaky, "have mercy on my son! I beg you to pray to our Lord for William… _you_ know what it is like for a woman to lose her son, _you_ know what it is like to feel a dagger stabbed into your heart when you see your child fall… I beg you to intercede on behalf of my Will…"

Emily listened to the prayer in silence, hoping she would never have to beg for _her_ children's lives… she was not sure she could bear to lose either Jason or her baby.

Several minutes later Lady Allendale turned to Emily. "Do you not wish to say a few words for him?"

Emily cast her eyes down. "I do not really know how to, my lady. I was never taught to pray… and I fear my prayer would not count. I sinned against your son more times than I could ever repent for… I do not think the Lord would listen to me if I tried to pray for him."

"Be sure that He would," Laurence's mother said gently. "But I am not forcing you… you probably have not even come for Will… have you? You have come because of Jason, have you not?"

Emily thought there was a hint in that question, and a hope – a hope that she would deny having come only for Jason… but she did not feel enough courage to deny it. It had been easy to admit before the Corps that she was Laurence's lover, but to do it before his mother, a perfectly respectable lady… she definitely did not feel strong enough for that. "You are right, my lady. I have come because of Jason. He is likely to arrive by courier by tomorrow evening. I hope to be able to tell him that his father is still alive when he gets here… I cannot fathom how he would react upon learning that Laurence… died," she glanced at her unconscious love whose face was slowly turning from white to red – now she had no doubt that he had a fever. _And I cannot fathom what __**I **__would do if you died, Laurence…_

As if guessing Emily's thoughts of his fever, Lady Allendale reached out and ran a hand down his arm. "You are burning up, dear son," she murmured. "But you have to be strong and stay with us…"

Laurence moaned in his sleep and shifted a bit, just a little bit, but it was enough for the blanket to slip lower and reveal some of his skin that the bandage did not cover. A sharp intake of breath signalled Lady Allendale's shock. "What happened to his back?"

"Oh," Emily said, "did you not know? He was flogged in Africa, when we… went for the dragon cure." _And some of the smaller wounds might have been caused by me_, she added in thought. There was naturally no way she would let the countess know she had clawed at Laurence's back…

Lady Allendale shook her head, her eyes watering. "My baby… he has gone through so much… and always survived. He cannot die now!"

"No, my lady," Emily said quietly but determinedly. "He cannot." _Definitely not before he learns about our baby… O God, how could I be so damn proud and selfish to want to conceal it from him…?_

Her trail of thought was broken by the doctor and the two nurses who returned and asked the visitors to leave so that they could check up on the patient.

"But we are returning tomorrow," Lady Allendale said.

"Yes, we are," Emily nodded, sending Laurence a longing glance before they left the room. _Don't you dare die overnight, you hear me?! Don't you dare!_

They walked to the gates in silence, both of them deep in thought, Emily's inside shaking with dread that she would not find him alive the following morning. She would have been willing to sleep on the carpet by his bed if she had only been allowed to stay… but the doctor had been determined when he demanded that they leave the patient to rest.

"Good night, my lady," Emily inclined her head towards Lady Allendale as they stepped out onto the street.

"But… where do you think you are going, dear child?" the lady caught her by the arm.

"Back to the covert, obviously."

"What? Do you think I shall let a young lady like yourself wander across half London at night?"

"Oh, I can take care of myself," Emily waved her hand.

"Still, there is now way I am letting you go at this ungodly hour… not when we have a residence here in London and it is just a five minute walk..."

"But…"

"No, my dear, I insist," Lady Allendale said, her voice exasperated and peremptory at the same time.

Emily heaved a sigh. "Thank you, my lady, but I do not wish to impose. Surely your family would not be happy to have an aviator in the house…?"

"Oh, George, Elizabeth and the children are at Wollaton Hall, the London house is currently mine alone. And even if they _were_ at home, they still would have no say in my choice of guests. I for one value aviators… and you are almost family, my dear. Yes, come, before it gets completely dark!"

Emily did not find it in her heart to object any further, besides, she felt so tired she was grateful for a chance to get into bed as soon as possible. The covert was at the other end of London, it would have taken her hours to reach there on foot, and at least fifty minutes by carriage, but having accepted Lady Allendale's invitation, she was now going to be closer to Laurence, almost in an arm's reach.

oOo

Despite her worries, Emily had slept sounder than she had for weeks, and upon waking she needed several minutes to realise where she was and what she was doing here. She found herself in a huge four-poster bed with deep blue velvet hangings, her pillow softer than any she had ever slept on – softer and frilly on the edges. She squinted towards the light to see two tall windows with gilded frames and velvet curtains of a lighter shade of blue than the bed's hangings. Even the wardrobe was adorned with golden leafs and there was a vanity with a huge oval mirror, equally decorated with gilded leafs and roses.

Emily had never slept in a room as elegant as this one. In the evening she had not even paid the room any attention when Bella the maid had escorted her here with a candle – she had quickly stripped to her underwear and fallen into the bed.

Now, after a thorough observation she established that the Laurences must be really rich. _And he grew up here… or at least, partly here and partly at Wollaton Hall_, she thought, her throat closing. Seeing all the riches crammed into this room, she suddenly found it unimaginable that Laurence had given up the comfort of the four-poster beds for a hammock on a ship and the sophisticated life in the favour of the rudeness of sailors.

Emily got out of the bed, pulled on her boots and walked around the room, her eyes taking in every little detail. Finally she sank onto the chair before the vanity and stared at her reflection. She had not looked at herself in a mirror for weeks and was shocked to see the dark shadows under her eyes and her cheekbones standing out almost frighteningly. She had never regarded herself beautiful, not even pretty, but she thought she had become downright ugly. What could a man with a fine taste like Laurence find in an ugly duckling like her?

There was a knock on the door and she called 'Come in', expecting the maid to appear, and was surprised to see Lady Allendale enter instead.

"Good morning, my dear," the elderly woman greeted her. "I hope you slept well."

Emily quickly stood up, and from the sudden move she felt the room reel around her. "Yes, my lady… thank you very much, and… good morning to you too."

"Sit back down, my child, you are as white as a sheet," Lady Allendale said, her eyes radiating worry. "Are you not feeling well?"

"Just a little dizziness, my lady, nothing serious," Emily replied, but obediently sank back onto the chair. "Shall we go and visit Laurence in the morning?"

"I would like to, but first we have to have breakfast… and of course, we need to get you something to wear."

"Well… I do have my uniform, but nothing else, my lady. I could of course return to the covert for my things, but that is not much, just a change of underwear and another uniform."

"But surely you do not wish to keep visiting the Queen's house in your uniform," Lady Allendale shook her head with an amused smile. "Come, I think we could find you something to wear among my daughter-in-law's old things…"

"Oh, please, my lady, I cannot accept that, surely your daughter-in-law would not be happy to know…"

"She is no longer wearing them," the old woman waved her hand, not even letting Emily to finish her sentence. She opened the wardrobe and Emily was surprised to see it full of clothes. "Elizabeth, I am afraid, has gained at least thirty pounds in the past few years, she can no longer fit into these, but what can you expect after giving birth six times…? Elizabeth wanted to throw them out, but since they are all such lovely things, I kept them in the hope that my granddaughter Katie would want to wear them later on, if they did not go out of fashion by then…" She paused and let out a sigh. "The dresses are still more or less fashionable… but my Katie died three years ago. She was my only granddaughter."

"I am sorry, my lady," Emily said uneasily.

"Thank you, my dear…" Lady Allendale nodded, then turned away and began fumbling in the wardrobe. Finally she pulled out a pale pink dress with short, puffy sleeves and a pattern of tiny magenta flowers. "Here, I think this one would suit you well… now… this one requires long stays, unlike most dresses…"

Emily had never in her life worn stays, neither short nor long, and she was definitely not going to start wearing any with the baby on the way. Probably not even the long stays would reach down to constrict her stomach, but she was not going to risk it. She had risked just enough already – she should have given up on working long ago and should have rejected the parade assignment as well… She had endangered her baby more than she could ever forgive herself for. It was ironic how much Laurence's injury had changed her views on everything… yes, she had been worried about her belly aches before the parade, but now that Laurence was possibly dying, she suddenly began thinking of her baby as the last and most precious gift she had received from him, and a gift she had to take care of no matter what happened.

"I thank you, my lady, but… I should prefer not to wear stays. If I do not fit into the dress without those, then I am not wearing it at all. My uniform will do just fine."

The lady gave her a curious look, but inclined her head. "As you wish, my dear, no stays then. But still, try this on, and we shall see if it suits you or not."

It turned out that the dress was not small for Emily, on the contrary, it was perfect in width but a little too long and she had to take very cautious steps not to stumble upon the hem.

As she removed her boots to pull on the stockings, Lady Allendale let out a small gasp, then a chuckle, because a dagger Emily had always worn stuck into her boots had fallen out and landed on the floor with a metallic clink. "I think I now understand what you meant in the evening that you could take care of yourself," the lady commented, looking more amused than shocked now.

"Oh, and you haven't even seen this one," Emily pulled her beloved pistol out of the other boot. "I inherited it from my mother. Pretty, isn't it? As for self-protection… my right hook is also quite powerful."

Lady Allendale chuckled, the worry and sadness Emily had seen in her eyes almost completely disappeared.

"There, you look lovely," Lady Allendale said with a sigh of satisfaction several minutes later.

Emily had once again taken place before the vanity and the old woman had snatched up the brush and a few clips to flatten Emily's hair against her temples and fix the longer locks into a tiny bun at her nape. Emily had wanted to protest at first, having a suspicion that countesses usually left such things to hair-dressers, but Lady Allendale had only said with a small laugh, "Let me do it, my dear… I do not have a daughter to primp and Katie was not here often enough to let me enjoy small things as a grandmother-granddaughter moment… besides, you are almost like a granddaughter to me."

"You mean, because Jason is your grandson, my lady?" Emily had asked.

"That too… but… did you not know why I sent you that garnet necklace all those years ago?"

"Er… not really, my lady," Emily had admitted, then quickly added, "but I was very pleased to have received it, of course."

Lady Allendale had chuckled once again, and Emily, seeing only the lady's reflection above her own, had thought that the other woman looked slightly embarrassed.

"Well," the countess had said, "when my husband met you at a reception many, many years ago… he thought you were our Will's daughter."

Emily's eyes had widened. "You mean… his by-blow?"

The countess had blushed. "Yes, my dear. And let us admit, my husband's guess was not even that far from the truth, given the fact that your brother indeed is Will's natural-born son."

Emily had felt her cheeks burn. "Were you… disappointed in your son to think he had a natural-born daughter?"

Lady Allendale had shaken her head. "I was more disappointed to find out you were _not_ my granddaughter, after all…"

Now, as Emily was observing her reflection, her sandy hair fixed into a bun, several clips decorated with tiny pink silk roses stuck into her locks and some face powder applied to hide the shadows under her eyes, she barely recognised herself: anyone could have believed her to be a fine lady of the London society, not an aviator who had killed dozens of men at the war. Emily had to admit that she liked the way she looked, and wondered if Laurence would too like her this way… after all, the last time he had seen her wearing a female dress had been at the charity party held for the promotion of dragon welfare, ten years earlier. She liked to imagine his eyes widening at her sight, as if she were Cinderella just having entered the royal ball. She suppressed a grin – those Grimm tales were not that bad, after all…

There was another knock on the door and Bella entered with a tray and two cups of steaming coffee, then curtsied and announced that the breakfast was ready in the drawing room.

"Thank you, Bella," Lady Allendale nodded and turned back to Emily to find her pressing a hand over her mouth, her face visibly paled beneath the thick layer of powder.

"Are you well, my dear?"

Emily took a few deep breaths. "Yes, my lady… only the coffee… I think its smell is way too… intense."

Lady Allendale arched an eyebrow at her, searchingly, then stepped to one of the windows and opened it. "Some fresh air will surely help, my dear."

"I thank you, my lady. You are very kind."

Before breakfast the lady told Bella to go and fetch a certain Mrs. Potter, and Emily was still too nauseous to start enquiring who Mrs. Potter was and why she was needed, besides she was not sure it would not be impolite to ask at all.

They had breakfast in the drawing room, Emily trying to eat as little as possible with her upset stomach, and by the time they finished, Mrs. Potter had arrived. She turned out to be a seamstress.

"Please go through the wardrobe in the guest room – Bella will show you which one – and shorten the skirts of all the dresses by two inches," Lady Allendale told the seamstress. "I wish to give them to young Miss Roland here. Come to think of it… shorten them by two inches at the back, but only one at the front."

Emily was so surprised by Lady Allendale's curious request and even more surprised by Mrs. Potter's blush upon hearing the request that she even forgot to protest against the idea of receiving a whole wardrobe of female clothes. She did not understand the lady's intentions of having the dresses longer at the front than at the back, but she decided not to pry. After all, what could she, a girl grown up among men, playing with pistols instead of dolls, know about fine dresses?

oOo

Laurence was not doing any better when they arrived for the visit – just as feverish, just as unconscious as the previous evening, but at least he was alive.

Emily's heart had been hammering in her throat all the way to Buckingham House and down the corridors to the patient's room, fearing that they might arrive late, and she let out an involuntary gasp of relief upon seeing that he was still lying on his stomach, the blanket covering him up to his bandaged back, instead of him lying on his back with hands folded over his chest and the sheet covering him from head to toe… Not until she had seen that he was alive, had she realised how much she had dreaded to find him dead. She had been sick with worry and was now dizzy with relief – so dizzy that she dropped herself unceremoniously in an armchair, propping her forehead into her palms.

"Thank God, he survived the night," Lady Allendale sighed, turning to the doctor. "How is he doing?"

"Not well, I am afraid," the man replied, "but better than I expected he would. With a wound like that he should have died by the previous evening… beg your pardon for being so blunt, my lady."

Laurence's mother nodded shakily. "Thank you for your sincerity, doctor."

The doctor and the nurses left shortly after Lady Allendale and Emily arrived, and Emily was surprised when, after only a few minutes of sitting at the bedside and holding her son's hand, the lady announced that she had to ask something of the doctor and would go looking for him.

"Shall I go and fetch the doctor for you, my lady?" Emily felt obliged to offer, although she was too tired and sick to feel up to wandering around the labyrinth of corridors. She was hoping the countess would reject her offer, her heart beating frantically at the thought of having a chance to stay alone with Laurence.

"No, my dear," Lady Allendale said with a benign smile, "you just stay here."

As the door closed with a soft click, Emily could not help but wonder if the old woman had deliberately left her alone with Laurence – but if so, then why?

Swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat, Emily rose to her feet and with a few shaky steps crossed the distance between the armchair and the bed, taking Lady Allendale's vacated place. Tentatively she reached out to touch Laurence's cheek. It was prickly with stubble and hot with fever, but not dangerously so; she remembered having felt Jason's forehead hotter on occasions when a nasty flu had attacked him.

Now as she watched him sleep – or was an unconscious person even sleeping? – Emily realised she did not really know what to tell him. She had imagined it over and over on her way from the covert to Buckingham House the previous day, even during her visit yesterday when she could not talk in the lady's present, but now that the chance was here for her to speak, her so far coherent thoughts fell into pieces. "Laurence…" she muttered, taking his hand, "I don't know if you can hear me… but… I have to tell you… things." She let out a nervous laugh. "Do you hear me? Stammering like an idiot… but I have a good excuse for that… any woman would be stammering in my place, trying to tell you how utterly sorry they were to have treated you so horribly… to tell you how much they regretted having lied to your face and blamed you for things you were not guilty of… to tell you that they enjoyed every second they spent in your arms and are overjoyed to know they conceived your child… and to tell you they loved you more than anything."

On an instinct Emily bent and kissed him gently on the lips – as much as she could with him lying on his stomach, his face half-buried in the pillow. "You know, Laurence, I am dressed like a princess now… and if we were in Jason's fairy tale book, my kiss should have awoken you now. Stupid tales, eh?" She kissed him again, and his eyelashes fluttered as though his brains had registered the kiss, but he did not wake up.

Emily let out a disappointed sigh. As she drew back, she saw tear drops glinting on Laurence's cheek – tears she had shed without even noticing. In a hoarse voice, she carried on, "You… must also know… that Temeraire knows about the baby. Heck, the whole London covert knows… and tell you what, I don't give a damn about what they think of me… what they think of us. Nothing matters, Laurence… nothing but the fact that I love you… that Jason and Temeraire and so many others love you… and that you have to heal. I have forgiven you a lot, Laurence… more than you deserved to be forgiven for… but if you die, _that_ I will never forgive you! Ever! Besides… you too have to forgive me, so… you mustn't die. It's so simple."

Suddenly Emily heard steps echoing on the corridor and quickly released Laurence's hand and wiped her tears.

"Well… did you manage to find the doctor?" she asked Lady Allendale as the elderly woman entered with a cup of tea.

"Yes, my dear. Stay put, please," the lady said when she saw that Emily wanted to rise from the bedside. "Stay and drink this. It helps your morning sickness."

Emily's eyes widened and she reddened to the roots of her hair. "My lady… how do you know…?"

"My dear," the old woman smiled, "I have given birth to three boys and assisted during Elizabeth's pregnancies, all six of them… I recognise the signs."

"Oh," Emily blushed an even deeper shade of crimson. "Then that's why you asked the seamstress to make the dresses longer at the front… Oh heavens," she chuckled into the cup of tea, "this is so awkward."

"I can imagine that," Lady Allendale nodded, taking a place next to Emily. "I was observing you yesterday… the way you looked at my Will… and the way your voice sounded when I mentioned Edith... You love my son, do you not?"

Emily cast her eyes down, examining the steaming golden liquid in her cup. "Yes, my lady. I love him."

"Is the child his?"

Emily nodded.

"Then I was right in thinking you were not here only for Jason," Lady Allendale reached out and put an arm around the girl's shoulders.

"No, my lady… I am not here only for Jason."

"Dear child, I think it is time you called me Mama… or at least Adeline, if the former makes you feel uneasy."

Emily sent the elderly woman an embarrassed grin. "All right… and thank you… Adeline."

oOo

**A/N: now, did you **_**really **_**think I would kill off Laurence? *rolls eyes and giggles***

Update coming soon. Until then,** if you like not only Temeraire but also Disney's new movie, The Princess and the Frog, be sure to check out my crossover fanfic, **_**A Chinese Prince in New Orleans**_**! After the first two chapters that mostly take place in the TPatF universe, chapters 3 and 4 will mostly take place in the Temeraire universe. :)**

**And of course, reviews are always most welcome! **

**Historical note: **

Buckingham House in 1817 was not called a palace yet. It was indeed the private retreat of Queen Charlotte, and was known as The Queen's House. St. James's Palace remained the official and ceremonial royal residence. Buckingham Palace finally became the principal royal residence in 1837, on the accession of Queen Victoria. (source: wikipedia)


	15. The Soul of a Child

**Chapter 15**

**The Soul of a Child**

Around eleven o' clock the doctor and the nurses returned, asking the visitors to leave and come back in the afternoon if they wished.

"Of course we wish," Lady Allendale said, her voice sounding scandalised at the mere suggestion that they would _not_ wish to return. "Come, Emily dear, let us go home."

"I need to go back to the covert, my lady… Adeline," Emily quickly corrected herself. "I promised to Temeraire to bring him news on Laurence's condition as soon as I can."

"But will you not go to the covert to fetch Jason in the evening?"

"I will, but I can't find it in my heart to keep Temeraire in the dark until then. Any dragon who loves its captain would be beside itself with worry by now… and I haven't seen many dragons as close to their captain as Temeraire is to Laurence. They are… more than just captain and dragon, more than just friends… sometimes I have the impression they are also like father and son, but also son and father, their role depending on the situation. They are just… sweet together," Emily said with a reminiscing smile, almost wishing she could be half as close to Excidium as Laurence was to Temeraire. Theirs was the most beautiful sort of love possible between two beings: completely unconditional. She felt ashamed to think that _her_ love for Laurence had been lacking this unconditional quality for too long. It _had been_ unconditional before her mother's death, but it had taken over five years and an assassination to make it be like that again.

"All right then, if you insist," Lady Allendale sighed. "We shall get you a carriage, and pray come back soon, I shall ask the cook to make something really delicious today… for you and the baby."

Emily blushed. "You need not to go to any trouble with my lunch, Adeline, I can have lunch at the covert…"

"But do they cook your favourite meals and bake your favourite cakes there?" the lady asked challengingly.

"No, Adeline," Emily shook her head with an amused smile. "You want to fatten me up, admit it!"

"You badly need some fattening, my dear, you are so very thin… so, what is your favourite meal?"

Emily had never felt so loved and pampered by a woman before, and even if she found it a little awkward, it gave her a warm and fuzzy feeling all the same. So this was what it felt like, to have a grandmother…

In an hour she got out of the carriage and entered the London covert. Among aviators she felt uneasy, vulnerable and almost laughable in her feminine attire, Temeraire, however, greeted her with praise, "You look lovely, Emily! But pray tell, how is Laurence doing?"

"He is doing the same, I'm afraid," she sighed, stepping to the Celestial, surprised to find Iskierka dozing right next to him. Were the other dragons from the Dover covert not supposed to leave in the morning? "He is alive and the doctor says it is a wonder he still is…" She hung her head. "It was heart-wrenching, Temeraire… to see him so pale and feverish and unresponsive… but he is alive, so there _is_ hope. We mustn't give up hope."

"That's what I have been telling him since the parade," Iskierka yawned, "but there are times when he is practically bursting with hope, only to get completely dejected the next moment. One would think it is not me being gravid with mood swings but him…"

Emily suppressed a grin. "Really, Iskierka, what are you still doing here?"

"Disobeying orders, as always," Captain Granby called from behind her back. Annoyance was radiating from his features as he stepped to her. "She got it into her head that Temeraire needed her company in these desperate moments and she would not go back to Dover."

"Why, Maximus and Lily wanted to stay too," Iskierka said in self-defence.

"But they were eventually sensible enough to obey Berkley and Harcourt and left," Granby rolled his eyes.

"I would have been happy if they had stayed," Temeraire murmured, bending his head on his forelegs. "Much happier than with Iskierka…"

"You should be grateful for my company, you ugly black oaf," the Kazilik snorted and a small spurt of flame from her nostrils nearly singed him.

"I see nothing has changed between you two," Emily smirked.

"Between us – nothing," Temeraire grunted, "but something _has _changed about _you_… and not only the fact that you are no longer nasty and you are having an egg, but… where did you get this lovely dress? You actually look like a girl now."

"Well… I met Lady Allendale. She took me into her house and we have been visiting Laurence together… and she will be beside herself with worry if I do not return in time for lunch, so I have to go now, I just wanted to tell you that Laurence was doing… better than expected."

"Under 'expected' you mean 'dead'?" Iskierka enquired.

"Oh, hold your mouth, will you?" Granby snapped at her. "You aren't helping Temeraire like this… not to mention that Little threatened me that one more act of disobedience like this and we will be out of the Corps!"

"We have been threatened like that for at least a dozen times, and we are still here," Iskierka replied tartly.

"All right, I have no time to listen to your squabbling," Emily said scathingly. "I will be back in the evening for Jason. Until then, you two pray refrain from fighting… I will just go and say hello to Excidium, then I am off."

"All right, Emily," Temeraire nodded, looking slightly less forlorn than he had before she arrived. "And I meant it, you look very pretty. I bet Laurence's eyes would pop upon seeing you like this…"

"Well, I do hope so," Emily flashed him with a smile and set out for Excidium's clearing.

oOo

Emily did not know why she had said and hoped she would be happy if Laurence liked her brand new, feminine looks – it would not matter if he liked her, would it? Even if he survived, he would be sent back to Australia, and they would very likely never meet again. Probably it would be better if Laurence woke up and said he did not have any feelings for her any more… it would surely break her heart, but at least it would not break his.

Dark thoughts like these accompanied her on her carriage ride from the house of the Laurences back to the covert in the evening. Her heart was full of doubt, full of despair, full of fear for his death. In the afternoon Laurence's condition had worsened. The doctor had not let her and Lady Allendale stay more than ten minutes and had ushered them out despite their protests. On their way to the gates they had met another doctor hurrying towards the patient's room, and a few steps later Emily had caught herself leaning against a pillar by a small courtyard, clutching at her aching belly and tears pouring down her cheeks. If Lady Allendale had not been there to lead her to a seat between two pillars, she very likely would have fainted. As they had been sitting by the courtyard, Emily felt grateful for the pleasantly warm sunshine bathing her whole being; she had felt so cold and shivering after they had been ushered out of Laurence's room. Her whole body had been cold, especially her heart.

Hours had gone by and Lady Allendale had stopped a nurse when she had left her son's room to question her.

"He is still alive, but his breathing is very shallow and he is coughing up blood," was all that the nurse had replied. "I suggest you go home, my lady, the doctors won't let you in today for sure."

"It is getting dark," Emily had said, her voice sounding oddly hollow even to herself, as though it had come from outside, not from her own throat. "I should go to the covert for Jason."

"I am coming with you," the elderly woman had said. "You are not feeling well, there is no way I would let you ride in a carriage alone."

It was nearly nine in the evening when they entered the covert, and asked the first lieutenant they met if he knew about the arrival of one Jason Roland.

"The little boy?" the man said. "He arrived about an hour ago, he's out on the Celestial's clearing, I think…"

Emily once again was forced to admire Lady Allendale for her composure as they walked across the clearings towards Temeraire's – dragons were going aloft and touching down all around them, but the lady did not even bat an eyelid. Emily at least knew whom Laurence had inherited his courage from…

They were still at least two hundred yards from Temeraire's clearing when the words of the Lord's Prayer reached their ears. They were a little hard to understand at first, but as they got closer, the words got clearer, and among the trees they spotted the flickering of several candles.

Stepping into the clearing, they saw Jason kneeling in front of Temeraire and Iskierka, facing away from them, with Captain Granby on his side and several others whom Emily did not even know around them, all of them reciting the prayer, Temeraire the loudest of them all.

The two women looked at each other, and Emily saw tears in Lady Allendale's eyes as the elderly woman joined in the prayer. Emily wished she knew the words so that she could recite it along with the others, but this way she could only clasp her hands and bend her head and _feel_ the prayer as it rolled off the lips of others.

"…but deliver us from evil, for thine is the kingdom, and the power and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen." Jason's clear boyish voice sounded like a bell among the murmurs of the adults and Temeraire's powerful and deep rumble, and as the others fell silent, Jason carried on, his small hands clasped, the candle light illuminating his blond hair in a way that made him look like a tiny angel, "Dear God, please save my papa, for we all love him very much, Temeraire, my grandmother, me, all his friends, and even Emily, although she pretends not to. Papa is a hero, and he deserves to live and be happy, don't You think, dear God? I think You should think he does. Thank you for listening. Amen."

Lady Allendale chuckled, and Jason turned around. "Grandma!" he jumped up from his kneeling position. "And Emily! Emily, what are you wearing? You look like a girl!"

"Er… I wanted to look pretty for your papa when he woke up," Emily said, drawing her little brother into a hug.

"And has he woken up?"

"No. Not yet… but let us hope that your prayer helped and he will soon."

"It has to have helped," Jason said, his little face serious. "Papa said prayers always helped, and the more people pray for the same thing, the better. That's why I asked everyone to help me," he pointed at the others, "though," he leaned closer to say confidentially, "they did not know the exact words of the Lord's Prayer and kept stammering all along. Only Temeraire and I knew the whole thing by heart. Oh, Emily, is it true that you are having a baby? Temeraire told me so…"

"Yes, Jason, it is true."

"Oh, how wonderful! And I told papa what a pity it was he did not manage to give you one," Jason shook his head with a grin.

"You told him what?" Emily's eyebrows raised in shock.

"Well, papa told me how babies were made and he let it slip that you and him did that thing too… and he blushed a lot."

"I can imagine that," Lady Allendale said with an indulgent smile.

"But you won't be angry with papa for having told me this, will you, Emily?"

"No, Jason. I don't think I could be really angry with him any more… for anything."

"Then you really love him?" Jason's blue eyes widened in hope.

"Yes, Jason. Really, really."

"Then you were indeed just pretending not to love him!"

"I think my grandson is way too clever for his own good," Lady Allendale observed.

"He is," Emily ruffled the boy's hair, "but pray do not give him a big head, Adeline."

The countess laughed at Jason's frown. "I fear it is a little late for that. This young man is just as proud as his father."

oOo

"You cannot be serious! He is just a child!" Emily was practically shouting at the guards the following morning.

"I am sorry, Miss Roland, but we have orders from Her Majesty to let the Dowager Countess of Allendale and you, Miss Roland in to visit William Laurence; you two, and no one else."

"But my brother is just a five-year-old boy!" Emily pointed at Jason. "Do you think _he_ would harm the Queen?"

"Emily dear, I think shouting will not solve the problem," Lady Allendale said gently. "The only thing we can do is leave Jason here and look for Her Majesty inside and beg her to allow Jason to enter too."

Emily threw up her hands in resignation. "Of course, as if it were not enough to badger Her Majesty once… I honestly think this will not work, a Queen surely has more important things to attend to than _our_ problems…"

"The Queen owes my son a debt. Besides, she is a very kind lady… do have faith, my dear."

_Easy to say_, Emily thought dejectedly. She knew she was beginning to be like Temeraire: hopeful one moment, downcast the other, and she did not like the way she was acting at all, but she put it down to her pregnancy. It was easier to 'blame' her condition for her volatile temper than to admit she was having, as she had always had, difficulties controlling her emotions. At times like this she really wished she had the tenth of her mother's composure… but she did not have it. Jane and Emily had always had a lot in common, most importantly their love for the same man, but the term 'like mother, like daughter' was not fit for them in every respect. Emily wondered if she should be grateful for not being completely like her mother – after all, Laurence had not loved Jane, but apparently he did love _her_. Perhaps it was exactly her temper, her fire that he loved; something that had been there in Jane as well, but much, much more moderately.

"I can wait here," Jason said in a small but determined voice. "You just go in, I'll be talking with these two sirs until then…"

"Should we not take him back to your house instead of leaving him here?" Emily asked from Lady Allendale, worried.

"I trust my grandson to be sensible and not wander away, and I trust these two gentlemen to take care of him," the old woman replied. "Come, Emily dear, let us go in."

Before they reached out of sight of the gates, Emily managed to catch a frightened expression on the guards' faces as Jason asked them, "Do you like books, sirs? Have you read _Grimm's Fairy Tales_?"

Suppressing a giggle, Emily followed Lady Allendale into the courtyard. Not until they stepped into a shadowy cloister did Emily realise that once again they were facing the dreaded question: was Laurence still alive?

"Surely the guards would have told us if… if he… did not survive the night?" she asked in a trembling voice.

"I am sure they would have," Lady Allendale gently squeezed her arm. "Go on, visit him, my dear, I shall go looking for a lady in waiting to beg for an audience with Her Majesty for me."

"Should it not be the other way around?" Emily knitted her eyebrows. She found it awkward that an elderly lady should be running around the castle while she, the young and healthy girl was sitting by the patient's bedside…

"I believe you are more desperate to see him," Lady Allendale sent her a knowing smile. "Go on."

Emily was not sure if Lady Allendale had indeed meant it: after all, who could be more desperate to see an injured man than the woman who had given birth to him? Perhaps… only the woman who was in love with him. Emily truly admired the countess for her composure, her tact and wisdom.

With her heart hammering in her throat, Emily entered Laurence's room to find only one nurse by the bedside. She, recognising the visitor, rose and left without a word, but with a tiny smile on her face. Surely, she would not be smiling if Laurence had got worse again?

Shakily, Emily approached the bed. Laurence was no longer lying on his stomach, he had been turned on his side, facing away from the door.

With every step she took, Emily's fear grew of what she would find on the other side of the bed: an even whiter face than before? The pillow blotted with blood?

The morning light came across the gilded windows, ten times as heavily decorated as the ones in the Laurences' guest room, and illuminated a face just slightly paler than usual, and a pair of half-closed blue eyes. Emily's heart fluttered just like his eyelashes did upon spotting her, and their lips formed each other's names without real sound leaving their throat – he too weak to speak, she too overwhelmed to do so.

oOo

Queen Charlotte was walking among the rows of her favourite roses, immersed in her thoughts when she spotted the gardener, a bulky man of forty, carrying a small boy by the collar of his cloak. The boy was struggling to break free, but the gardener held him in a vice-like grip.

"What are you doing with that child, Jones?" the Queen called out to him.

"Oh, Your Majesty," the gardener bowed as deep as he could, putting the boy down but not releasing his collar and not in the least gently pushing the boy's back to make him bow too. "This little scoundrel climbed over the wall, Your Majesty, he must be a thief."

"I'm no thief, Your Majesty," the boy protested, "I only wanted to see my papa, because those stupid guards won't let me in! Emily and grandmother came to find you and ask you to let me in, but I heard the guards talking that it was just a waste of time for them to try and badger you, and I thought if you would not let me in, I would have to find a way, so I left them and they couldn't come after me because they were not allowed to leave their posts, and I climbed over the wall, because I want to see my papa so, so much!"

The Queen was momentarily puzzled by the child's endless chatter. "And… who is your papa whom you want to see so much?"

"He is the greatest hero in the world, even greater than that Theseus who killed the minotaur, but he is wounded, that's why I must see him!"

"Oh, then you must be young Laurence," the Queen said.

"Roland, Your Majesty," the boy drew himself up. "My parents never got married."

"A little bastard, and proud of it," the gardener grunted.

"I'm no bastard, take it back!"

"Jones, let go of this boy and leave us alone," the Queen demanded.

"But… Your Majesty…" the gardener stammered.

"This boy means me no harm," she said with a smile. "Leave us, please."

Jones the gardener bowed and left with a look of disapproval, muttering under his breath.

"Thank you for saving me from that rude man, Your Majesty," the child said with a bright smile. "Your garden is really pretty."

"I am glad you like it, young Roland. So… you climbed over the wall? Was it not too high for a little boy like you?"

"No, Your Majesty, it was easy to climb. Why, I have been climbing all over Excidium since I was three…"

"Excidium?"

"My sister Emily's dragon. He used to belong to my mama, but when my mama died, Emily inherited him. Too bad I cannot inherit him because I'm a boy and Longwings only take girls for their captains… but of course, I could inherit Temeraire from my papa, though I'm not sure if Temeraire will be allowed to return to England from Australia… if they leave at all…" The boy bit into his lower lip. "If papa does not get better, they will not leave. You know, I never wanted papa to go back to Australia, but I would rather have him go than to see him die…"

"That is understandable, but why does your father have to return to Australia?" the Queen asked, sinking down on a bench and patting it next to herself.

The boy flopped down on the bench with perfect naturalness, very likely not having the slightest idea that sitting in the presence of the Queen was normally not allowed and that he was supposed to feel honoured by the exceptional grace. "Papa is a convict, Your Majesty," he said plainly.

"A convict?" the Queen gasped. She would never have imagined that the saviour of her son could be a criminal…

"Yeah… but he shouldn't have been convicted at all," the boy shrugged. "People said he was a traitor just because he took the dragon cure to the French so that the French dragons and all other dragons in the world would not die. I think he was rather a hero than a traitor!"

"Oh… so that was he," the Queen murmured. "I seem to remember having heard something about a captain stealing the cure… I thought he was executed."

"No, the Duke of Wellington thought he was too nice to kill so he only sent papa over to Australia," the child said, swinging his short legs as he talked.

"Then… what is you father doing in England?"

"Oh, the Admiral wanted Temeraire to come back and give Iskierka another egg like he did six years ago, only six years ago it was my mama who was the Admiral, and it was she who ordered Temeraire to come back for mating. That was when papa and mama made me, but papa did not know that, and mama died when I was born and papa was so very surprised to find out I was here when he came back…"

The Queen found herself smiling at the child's chatter – there was so much innocence and hope in the way he talked; all her sons and daughters had grown up long ago, even her only granddaughter, Princess Charlotte Augusta had grown up, and she had almost forgotten what children were like.

"…and it would be so very bad if papa had to leave, not only because I would be missing him, but also because Emily would be missing him. She loves him, you know, and she is having a baby from him…"

"Is Emily… not your sister?" the Queen blanched.

"Yeah, she is. Why?"

"But then… how can she have a child… from your father?"

"Oh, you don't know?" the boy's eyes widened. "Well, papa told me how it is done, but… it is a little embarrassing, are you sure you want to hear?"

The Queen felt her cheeks burn. "That is not what I meant, young Roland, I happen to know perfectly well how it is done… I have had fifteen children of my own."

"Fifteen?" the boy's jaw dropped. "Then you must have mated a lot! Er… excuse me, papa said that for people it should be called making love."

"Eh… yes," the Queen replied, forcing her facial muscles to remain straight. "But your sister… is having a child from her father?"

"What? Oh, no, Emily's father was someone else, I don't know who, I never met him…"

"So, she is your half-sister," the Queen concluded with a sigh of relief.

"Yes. And she's a bit like a mother to me too, after all, she brought me up, all alone… and if papa has to go back to Australia, then I again won't have proper parents, only my sister… not that I don't love her, because I do, but… I want papa to stay…" He suddenly jumped up from the bench. "May I go and see him at last?"

"Of course, young Roland," the Queen rose to her feet and took the boy by the hand. She could not help it, he amused her no end. "Come, let us have a look at your father."

They almost reached the door of the invalid's room when they met one of her ladies in waiting accompanied by an exasperated Lady Allendale. "Jason," Lady Allendale clasped her hands. "What are you doing inside? Oh, Your Majesty, I was looking for you to beg you to let him in," she sank into a curtsey.

"Oh, he let himself in," the Queen said with an amused smile and beckoned her to rise.

"_You let yourself in_?" Lady Allendale's eyes popped as she looked at Jason.

"I climbed over the wall," the boy shrugged, "and met Her Majesty. She is a very nice lady and is taking me to papa now."

"Oh, Your Majesty, thank you so much for putting up with him," Lady Allendale said, wringing her hands, "and pray forgive him for his insolence, he has had no mother to teach him proper behaviour…"

"Oh, but I _have been_ taught," Jason replied sharply, "Emily taught me, and Captain Granby and Berkley and Harcourt did too, and papa taught me _a lot_ after he arrived from Australia! I can behave, honestly!"

"Of course you can," the Queen laughed and sent the anguished countess a reassuring look. "We have been enjoying our conversation, Countess, never fear. Your grandson is a very pleasant young man."

"Why, thank you, Your Majesty," Jason beamed, "you are a very pleasant lady yourself, and you can believe my papa is very pleasant too, and…" The words froze in his throat as his grandmother opened the door of Laurence's room. The sight that greeted them made the two old ladies gasp and him giggle: his father was lying half on his back, half on his side, his sister was bending over him, and they were passionately kissing, not even noticing the creak of the door. "Well, and that is my sister Emily, and they do this all the time, only last time I caught them papa even had an erection and was so very ashamed…"

The Queen could not decide whether she should blush and look away or giggle. Well, at least the patient was apparently no longer dying.

oOo

**A/N: don't be happy yet, the problems for L/E are not over, far from it. **

**I'd appreciate some reviews. **


	16. Carpe Diem

**A/N: thanks to everyone for the reviews!**

_T223_: no, you won't get to see Lien in this story. She gave L and T just enough trouble in "While You Were Sleeping"… as for Excidium, he won't excuse himself. But you will get to see his opinion in this chapter and the next one.

**Chapter 16**

**Carpe Diem**

Laurence thought he was dreaming and the angelic vision that greeted him, backlit by the early morning sunshine, was not Emily Roland but a figment of his imagination. The angel-Emily was wearing a pale blue dress, her sandy hair smoothed back into a bun, the sunshine drawing a halo around her head; in fact the only thing she lacked in order to be an angel was a pair of wings. So perhaps she was _not_ an angel… perhaps not even a vision.

His thoughts were still too sluggish and his whole body was aching, the pain radiating from the centre of his back throughout his limbs; every breath he took felt like a stab in the chest, but the angel-Emily made him forget about all his physical pains. Trying to concentrate every fibre of his half-numb mind into one single act, he called her name. If she listened and replied, his suspicion that she was not a dream might be confirmed.

"Emily," his lips formed the word, but no voice came out of his mouth – his vocal cords were still out of order.

She smiled and her lips too formed something, probably 'Laurence', he was not sure, but at least he _was_ sure she was real when she sank onto the bed next to him and ran a finger gently down the side of his face. "Laurence," she repeated, this time using her voice, although it sounded raspy and very, very quiet. "Oh, Laurence… the prayer has helped…" Tears welled up in her eyes, she was crying and smiling the brightest smile at the same time, and he felt like saying 'Do not cry, angel', but his vocal cords still did not obey.

"Do not speak," she whispered. "Do not overexert yourself… you have to rest… and heal."

_Heal?_ – he thought, and she must have understood his frown for she carried on, "You might not remember, but two days ago at the parade there was an assassination attempt against the Prince Regent and you saved him… and you got shot. We nearly lost you, Laurence…" She pulled one of his hands to her lips and kissed the tips of his fingers. He felt the wetness of tears on his skin and wanted to console her, wanted to tell her that everything was all right, even if he did not feel all right in the least. No, physically he did not, but having her near and seeing her _cry for him_ compensated for all the pain numbing his body. _O God, she truly loves me_, he thought, his heart beating frantically, sending blood racing through his veins, invigorating his benumbed limbs.

"Laurence," she muttered, "I think… it is better for you not to be able to talk… because this allows me to talk without interruption. First of all… you have to know that I am no longer angry with you because of my mother… my anger came from jealousy, my stupid, pathetic jealousy, and I am so, so very mad at myself for it… I have been torturing you for weeks when it was myself I was really angry at… Oh, Laurence, can you ever forgive me for all those horrible things I committed against you?"

He wanted to tell her that he had long forgiven her and wanted to beseech for _her_ forgiveness for having caused her pain in the first place six years ago, and for having caused her pain in sleeping with Edith, but all he managed at the moment was move his lips silently to form a 'yes'.

"Laurence…" she sniffed, "now that you know that all my stupidity was due to my jealousy, you surely can guess that I… love you?"

'I know you do,' he mouthed to her, and in that instant he really felt he had known it all along, while in fact he had been uncertain of her feelings ever since he had returned to England. He had been hoping, but not believing, that a beautiful young creature like her could ever fall in love with an old convict like him… But now, he believed it. There was not a shadow of a doubt any more.

Gathering all his physical strength, he gently squeezed her hand. 'I love you too,' his lips formed the words, making fresh rivulets of tears flow down her cheeks. She let out a small laugh and squeezed his hand back. "Laurence… oh, Laurence…"

"Call… me Will," he mumbled, the first words he managed to utter, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"I love you, Will," she replied, and bending over him, gently touched her lips to his. He had never received as gentle a kiss from her as this one – all her earlier kisses had been demanding, fervent, bordering on violent, but this one was tender and innocent. Since moving his lips was one of the only few things he was currently capable of, he kissed her back, willingly opening his lips to give entrance to her tongue. In a few seconds their kissing had gone from gentle and innocent to mad and passionate, and Laurence instinctively reached out to pull her closer, but even this small move sent a sharp pain throughout his body, making him freeze for a second. Emily, however, did not sense him stiffen and he did not want to break the kiss just because his carelessness had caused him pain – his happiness over holding her in his arms outweighed his physical aches.

While his lips engaged in kissing, his mind was full of questions: whose house he was in, how Emily had managed to get in here, where she had got such a lovely dress, who had given her such an elegant hairdo, where Temeraire was and whether he knew that his captain was still alive… and what of Jason? Had he heard what happened to his father at all?

Suddenly a hazy memory slipped into his mind – a memory of his son giving him a serious expression and saying it was a pity he was not getting a little brother.

Laurence stiffened at the memory and wanted to break the kiss to ask Emily the question that had not left him a moment of peace before the parade; but he did not need to, for it was she who broke away upon hearing a highly familiar little voice say, "Well, and that is my sister Emily, and they do this all the time, only last time I caught them papa even had an erection and was so very ashamed."

With cheeks glowing red, Emily jumped up, then lowered herself into a curtsey. Laurence, having recognised the voice and understood perfectly what it had said, felt his own cheeks burn and wondered who Emily was curtseying for, but he could not look at the door's direction without twisting his body, and he did not feel strong enough for such an endeavour.

"Rise, my child," the voice of an elderly woman said from behind Laurence's back, and all he could do was look at Emily and mouth to her, 'Who is it?', but she did not need to reply, for the next moment the elderly woman in question appeared before him, leading his little son by the hand, followed by his mother.

"I am glad to see you are doing better, Captain Laurence," the visitor said, and Laurence recognised in her Queen Charlotte, wife and guardian of the mad King George III. "Your… Majesty," he croaked. "I fear… I cannot bow before you…"

"Pray do not be silly, dear Captain, how on earth could you bow?" Queen Charlotte smiled indulgently. "It is I who should be bowing before you, after all, you have saved the Prince Regent." She inclined her head – as far as royalty would go in 'bowing', and carried on, "Thank you very much for saving my son… and here I am, bringing you yours. He is a very bright young man, you can be proud of him. I shall tell the guards to include him on the list of your allowed visitors. I am leaving you alone with your family now."

_My family_, Laurence thought, his heart leaping. The Queen had obviously thought Emily to be his… what, exactly? He felt himself redden once again – she had caught them kissing. But still… she had named them his family, and for a fleeting moment his chest nearly burst with joy at the thought that he actually _had_ a family: a loving mother, a wonderful son and a woman whom he loved and who might possibly be… "I am… most grateful… Your Majesty," he mumbled, and the Queen inclined her head once more.

"I hope you achieve a full recovery soon, Captain. Should you need anything, my servants stand at your disposal. Good day to you." With that she turned and left.

"Papa, oh, papa, it's so good to see you doing better!" Jason practically swung himself onto his father, and this time Laurence did not manage to hold back a hiss of pain. "Oh, sorry, are you hurt?" Jason pulled back, his forehead creased with premature wrinkles. "I did not want to hurt you!"

"It is okay, Jason," Laurence said quietly. "It is good to see you… and you too, dear Mother."

"Will, oh, Will," his mother ran a hand across his brow. "You scared us so much… don't you ever do that again…"

Laurence made a grimace. "I doubt if I could… there are not many crown princes left to save, are there?"

Emily chuckled in the background, and Laurence's eyes flitted to her. Their eyes locked, and he was once again lost in her. The last time he had felt like this for a woman had been decades earlier, sending Edith Galman enamoured glances and receiving equally enamoured ones in return; now he once again felt young and content just to be looking at the beloved woman without saying a word, without even touching her…

"Jason, I believe it is time to let your father rest," Lady Allendale said gently.

"But I haven't even been here for a minute!" the boy protested.

"You will be able to talk to him longer tomorrow. But what about visiting Temeraire in the covert and delivering him the good news that your father has woken up?"

"Oh, okay," Jason said, a little more enthusiastically. "But tomorrow I'm going to tell papa how we all prayed for him and how I climbed over the castle wall and met the Queen! Bye, papa, rest well!" with that he pressed a kiss on his father's forehead and took his grandmother's offered hand.

"Mother is tactful, as always," Laurence muttered once the door closed behind Lady Allendale and his son.

"Yes, very," Emily nodded and sank back onto the bed next to him. "So, where were we before they arrived?"

"Kissing, I believe," he blushed again. "But… I fear… I am being selfish in letting you kiss me and kissing you back…"

"Why would you be selfish?" she frowned.

"Because… we cannot be together, Emily… no matter how much I would like to… Temeraire and I are leaving for Australia… and getting involved in a relationship with you now would be… careless, to say the least."

"Careless?" she stroked his cheek with a sad smile. "We have been careless already, Will… we could not possibly be any more careless."

Laurence's eyebrows shot up high as his earlier dilemma resurfaced. His eyes instinctively darted to her midsection. "Do you mean you are…?"

"Yes, Will, I am having 'an egg'. And you are possibly the last person to find out… everyone in the covert heard when I told Temeraire," she said with a chuckle. "You have no idea how mad I was at you when I realised you had got me pregnant… but now I am happy about it. This little one is part of you, and I love her already. Or him. Though, I think it is a girl," she admitted with an embarrassed grin. "I expect a girl would make not only me and Excidium happy, but also your mother. She seems to be disappointed to have no granddaughter. But I am raving, do you hear me?" she shook her head with a nervous laugh.

Laurence could not help but smile at her 'raving', it was simply so endearing. With an almighty effort and biting back a hiss of pain, he slipped his hand onto her belly and was overwhelmed when she covered his hand with hers. They were caressing their baby through the pale blue fabric. _Our baby… oh, holy heavens!_

"What I really wanted to tell you, Will," she spoke up after a long, awkward minute of silence, "is that… I know we do not have much time together… but I say we take every minute we have left. Carpe Diem." With that her lips descended on his, stifling anything he might have said, and he was not even sure he _would have_ said anything – his mind was simply too much in a jumble now to form coherent thoughts and even help him voice them. Here he was, kissing the love of his life, who had just admitted to be expecting his child, and he could do nothing to secure her the respectful family life she deserved, not with two oceans soon to be between them…

He knew he could not even propose to her, not when such a pledge would bind this young woman to an old man like him with no hope of ever seeing each other, no hope of enjoying the intimacies of married life, no hope of bringing their children up together… A marriage would only be advantageous for the child to be born – if at all, but it would put invisible shackles on Emily as long as he, the husband, lived. He had no right to that – he could not rob her of the chance to be happy with a man more suitable for her, a man who would be beside her all the time, unlike _him_ who could only love her from the other end of the world.

He knew he had to break the kiss and send her away, even if that would break his heart and break hers too… he had to set her free. Only the child, the child… with Jane, Laurence had not had a chance to make amends and give their child his name, but… would Emily's baby gain anything with the name Laurence? Only the status of being legitimate, but he knew well that it would not inherit a penny of the Laurence riches, and it would not matter for Emily to bring a natural-born child into the world as it had not mattered for Jane either. Illegitimacy was not an issue among aviators, and the child would either way become an aviator, growing up at a covert, so his or her future was more or less secured, legitimate or not.

Surely his mother would not approve if he did not marry Emily, but she would understand in the long run. This was not a matter of propriety, this was a matter of the heart, and Laurence knew where his heart lay: he wanted to give Emily a chance to find happiness, and knew it was not him who could give it to her.

As their lips were moving on each other, hers tasted salty from tears, and he could not help but find it arousing, but his willpower was stronger than the will of his body, and gently, with not a little physical ache, he pushed her back just in time before a certain part of his body could have embarrassed him once again.

"I cannot breath either," Emily panted, clearly thinking breathlessness to be his reason for breaking the kiss, but he shook his head.

"Emily…" he gathered all his physical and mental strength to be able to talk, "we must stop this."

"You mean… because anyone could catch us?" she grinned, her eyes radiating too much mirth – he hated to extinguish that joyful flame burning inside of her. "Honestly, I do not care if they do," she went on. "I do not think I could be any more embarrassed than when the Queen caught us or when the whole London covert heard that I had scratched your back in fervour… I no longer care for anything or anyone… but you." She reached out to caress his jaw, and he had to catch her hand and push it gently away.

"You… misunderstood me, Emily. We have to stop it. This whole… relationship."

"What do you mean?" she frowned. "Do you not want to enjoy every minute left…?"

"I do… but I cannot," he sighed. "For your sake. You have to… get used to us being apart from now on… I do not want to raise false hopes in you; and pretending to be happy until the ships sails out would be exactly that. False hopes. Lying to ourselves. We have to be honest with ourselves, Emily. That is why… I cannot even marry you."

She let go of his hand and drew herself up in her seat. "I never expected you to marry me. I only wanted to use the moment… to show you how much I loved you… are you denying me even that?"

He swallowed hard. "In time you will understand why I had to do it. In time… you will be grateful to me for not even trying to bind you to myself, no matter how much I would like to… Emily… you _did_ expect me to propose to you. I know you did. And you had every right to. But _I_ have no right to rob you of the chance to find happiness with someone here, in England."

"What are you talking about?" she shook her head, her eyes once again veiled with tears. "I could not be happy with anyone else, ever!"

"You are mistaken, Emily. You are talking with the passion and hotheadedness of youth. I no longer have that… I have a cold head instead, maturity… At least one of us has to be cold-headed here."

"Cold hearted, you mean," she whispered, and the sadness in her eyes made his heart wrench.

"Emily… if I married you now, I know you would some day regret the choice you made as a young woman… when you meet someone you love and cannot marry him just because I was still alive at the other end of the world… You would… probably… decide to live together with him, despite our pledge, but that would make you an adulterer… and there is no way I would condemn you to be forced to commit such sin."

"Or perhaps _you_ do not want to bind yourself to me so that _you_ can be free to womanise in Australia without committing adultery!" she snapped.

He exhaled slowly. "You are jumping to the wrong conclusions, Emily… I do not want any other woman but you…"

"And what about Edith Woolvey?" she asked, her voice wavering.

"It was a mistake. I once loved her… and I thought I might be able to forget you if I pretended to love her, for just one night… but I was wrong, Emily. O God, I was so very wrong… You are the only woman I love… and the only woman from now on who I want to make love to… but I cannot do even that. I have to exercise abstinence… and I am not doing this for myself, but for you."

"But you do not _have to_ marry me," she shook her head with tears in her eyes. "Just be with me as long as we can…"

He blinked back a tear. "I have told you already – that would only be lying to ourselves. Pretending to have a chance for happiness when we do not. Not together, anyway. I hope and pray… that one day you find a nice young man. You are free, Emily. Go… please go and forget about me."

"As if I could ever forget about you with your child in my womb," she sniffed, and slowly rose from the bedside. "Is this… your last word, Laurence?" she put the emphasis on his name, clearly refusing to call him 'Will'.

His heart had never been this heavy. In a mere fifteen minutes he had gone from exhilarated and hopeful to completely resigned. Once again, he had to choose duty over love, only the first time around he had chosen duty for the Corps over Edith Galman's love – this time he knew it was his duty to make sure that the woman he loved would have a chance for happiness, some day. "Yes, Emily," he muttered, completely exhausted from the exertion of speaking. "It is."

"Then we really do not have anything else to say to each other," she said, and turning on her heels, marched to the door. She did not even look back.

oOo

"Did you hear that, Iskierka? My Laurence has woken up!" Temeraire roared with happiness. "When can he leave that castle? Oh, I want to see him so much!"

"We do not yet know when he can leave," Lady Allendale shook her head. "My poor darling looked so weak… it might take him weeks before he is allowed to leave his sickbed."

"Oh, it must be very boring just to lie there all day," Temeraire said. "If only I could be there with him…"

"Well, I do not think the Queen would be happy to have a Celestial in her rose garden," Granby smirked. "But at least we can return to Dover now, eh?" he patted the flank of his Kazilik.

"Yes," Iskierka said, sounding somewhat uneasy. "I suppose… unless of course Temeraire wants me to stay… to keep him company."

"I do not want you to stay at all," Temeraire replied. "I have Excidium here if I want to talk to someone familiar…" he glanced at the adjacent clearing where the old Longwing was dozing in the sunshine.

"Do not count on me," Excidium murmured, half-asleep. "We have not been on the best terms recently, remember?"

"Oh, come on," Temeraire rolled his eyes. "You will just have to warm up to me, old boy. Remember, our captains are in love with each other..."

Excidium snorted and pretended to continue sleeping.

"Not very amicable, is he?" Iskierka bristled. "And you would trade _my_ company for his!?"

"I simply do not want you to lose your job by disobeying Little's orders any longer," Temeraire sighed.

"Because he loves you," Jason added with a grin.

"What? No, no, I do not love her," Temeraire shook his had vigorously.

"Neither do I love you," Iskierka replied nastily. "Come on, Granby. Let us go."

"What? Right now?" Granby arched an eyebrow at her.

"Yes, right now. I do not wish to stay any longer with a dragon who does not love me and whom I do not love," Iskierka drew herself up.

"At least let me gather my things," Granby grunted, and walked off towards the barracks, muttering under his breath, "dragons and their love affairs, what will come next?!"

oOo

Upon returning to the London house of the Laurences, Lady Allendale and Jason found Emily sitting in the hall, wearing her aviator uniform, her hair no longer in a neat bun but falling into her face in an unruly way, hiding some of her puffy cheeks red with earlier shed tears.

"I am leaving," she announced.

"What happened, dear child?" Lady Allendale sank onto the sofa next to her. Jason took a place on her left.

Emily just hung her head.

"It is Will, is it not?" Lady Allendale sighed. "What did that boy do again?"

"But grandma, papa is no boy, he is a man!" Jason said.

Emily looked at the elderly woman. "Perhaps… Jason should not hear this."

"Why not?" the child asked, knitting his blond eyebrows. "If it is about papa, then it concerns me too, we are a family!"

Emily sent her little brother a sad smile. "I fear, Jason… we have never been a family… and never will be."

"What did he tell you?" the lady slipped an arm around the young woman's shoulders.

Tears welled up in Emily's eyes and she bit into her lower lip. "He just… sent me away."

oOo

"I have not seen your sister today," Queen Charlotte told Jason the following morning when she found the little boy sitting between two pillars in the cloister, looking rather forlorn. "Is she not doing well?"

"No, Your Majesty," Jason shook his head, not bothering to stand up and bow. "She isn't doing well at all. She nearly left grandmother's house yesterday, and we only managed to talk her out of it because she was beginning to feel nosie… nausate… she almost vomited, because of the baby, you know… so now she's staying under grandma's wing as long as I am visiting papa, but _she_ won't be visiting him anymore."

"But what happened to her that made her want to leave?" she asked, sitting down next to the boy. "Can I help somehow?"

"Thank you, Your Majesty, but you can't. Emily won't forgive papa, ever. Perhaps not even grandma will… she's in papa's room right now, telling him off, I think," Jason made a grimace. "But papa deserves to be told off, he is just so silly!"

The Queen bit back a chuckle – the boy still amused her. "Why is your father silly, my dear?"

"Because he sent Emily away, telling her he could not marry her! She's expecting a baby, and if they don't get married, then this baby will be illeg… illetim… I don't know the word, but according to grandmother it is a bad thing, and it is bad enough that I am an illegi-thing, and my brother or sister should not be!"

"Well, surely your father does have a reason why he does not want to marry your sister?" the Queen asked with a frown. That man she had seen the previous day in the sickbed had not struck her as the rascal type who would gladly leave a woman in trouble… and he had saved the Prince Regent, so he had to be honest… even if he was a traitor.

What little Jason had told her about his father's treason had convinced her that the man had done what he had deemed to be the greater good and that he had not been a traitor at heart. Perhaps he was thinking of a greater good this time as well… although Queen Charlotte could not fathom what.

"Yeah, he does have a reason," the boy grimaced, "he says if he married Emily, she could never be happy with someone else. You know, because papa has to go back to Australia soon."

The Queen's heart went out to the child sitting next to her: he seemed so lost and lonely with no mother and a father soon leaving him... For a moment she longed to console him as though he were her own grandson – a grandson she never had. She had given birth to fifteen children, thirteen of whom had survived to adulthood, and besides her eldest son George, the Prince Regent, not one of them had managed to give her a legitimate grandchild. This little boy here too was illegitimate, but at least his father apparently loved him and cared for him, while her son George never cared for his only legitimate offspring, Princess Charlotte, and naturally never cared for any of his allegedly many natural-born children.

Here was a family torn apart by not their unwillingness to hold together, but by the ruthlessness of law. These people could be an exemplary, respectable family if only given a chance… but the chance had been denied them.

"You know, Your Majesty," the child carried on, "papa wants Emily to be happy, but he doesn't understand that Emily doesn't want to be happy with anyone else… and I don't want Emily to marry someone else either. A step-father would be quite horrible, wouldn't it? Do you know that step-parents are always evil? Like Cinderella's stepmother, and Snow White's… a step-father would make me and my little brother or sister work all day! He might even want to make us eat poisoned apples!"

Queen Charlotte had to bite her tongue to not laugh out loud. Children and their wild imagination!

"So…" Jason went on, "I think papa _should_ marry Emily, even if they will never live together. But even if grandma manages to convince papa to propose, I don't think Emily will say yes. She's way too angry with him for that. You know, Your Majesty, if this is how love is, being angry and sad all the time, then I don't want to be in love, ever."

oOo

"I am really disappointed in you, William," Lady Allendale said as a greeting – no 'good morning, my dear, how are you doing?', nothing, but cold outspokenness. Laurence knew his mother must be indeed mad at him, for she only called him 'William' instead of 'Will, my dear' when she was upset.

"It is about Emily, is it not?" he sighed.

His mother nodded with a strict expression. "I thought I taught you better than to get a girl in trouble and leave her without marrying her if you _have_ a chance to do the right thing!"

"Please, Mother… at least you must understand, even if Emily does not. Nothing would make me happier than to marry her… but I know it would not make _her_ happy. Not in the long run, anyway. Perhaps it would make her happy momentarily, but how will it be in years from now? Decades, even? I might live for thirty years, even forty, and should I expect her to wither away as the wife of a memory, when she could start a life with someone here, with a flesh and blood man within her reach? I love her too much to condemn her to a life like that."

"And what of the child?"

"It will be well-loved and taken care of, even if it is a Roland, not a Laurence. Actually," Laurence said darkly, "if it grows up among aviators, it is much, much better if it is called a Roland. That name is respected in aviator circles, while Laurence… well, it is not. I can give neither Emily nor the child anything in a marriage… only pain and shame. Pray do not imagine I am not longing to do the 'right thing' and correct my mistakes… but I know I would only ruin her if I did. Ruin her much more than I have done in getting her with child."

Lady Allendale heaved a sigh. "I understand your point, Will… and I see the good intentions behind your words, but… my soul is still rebelling against the notion of my son giving me another natural-born grandchild."

With some difficulty, Laurence reached out and gently squeezed his mother's hand. "I know you would love it, even if it were natural-born. And I thank you for that love, Mother. You have no idea what it means to Jason to have you around… my second child will be lucky too, to have you as its grandmother."

"Oh, you shameless flatterer," Lady Allendale tutted. "The worst is that I understand you both, you and Emily… and I know both of you are right… I just do not know how to help either of you."

"No one can help us, Mother. I fear not even the Lord can."

"What kind of talk is that, William?" the lady gasped.

"Dear Mother… you know that I have been banished, and my banishment is based on human laws, not those of God."

Lady Allendale hung her head. "I know, son. I know."

oOo

"So, Iskierka is gone," Jason observed when he, his grandmother and Emily visited Temeraire and Excidium in the afternoon.

"Yes," Temeraire said, sounding sad. "I am glad she left, of course, she was a nuisance, but… for some reason I am also missing her."

"You do love her, then," Jason opined. "It really must be a bad thing to be in love… everyone just suffers because of it… like Emily," he looked at the neighbouring clearing where Emily was talking to her dragon in hushed tones.

"But why is Emily suffering?" Temeraire questioned the boy, making Emily look up and glower at them. Jason, however, either did not notice his sister's dark glance or pretended not to.

"Er… well," he said somewhat uneasily, "I think it's better if grandmother tells you that… I can't recount it very well, I think even Queen Charlotte was confused when I told her the story…"

Lady Allendale gave her grandson a curious look – apparently she had no idea that he had once again talked to Her Majesty. "Well…" she turned to Temeraire, "my recalcitrant son has decided to end his relationship with Emily."

"But… why?" the dragon's deep blue eyes widened.

"Because he's going to leave with you soon," Jason chimed in, "and he thinks Emily would be unhappy to wait for him for the rest of her life and not marry someone else…"

"But… that is stupid," Temeraire said.

"Yes, very," Jason nodded.

"Not that very stupid," Lady Allendale shook her head with a sad expression. "William has the best of intentions, but he is in a very difficult situation. He has had to choose between two evils: leaving Emily to be an unmarried mother and the child to be illegitimate, or marrying her and condemning her to a possibly long and lonely life."

"_Long and lonely life_, that sounds so poetic with all those l's," Temeraire said wistfully. "I understand, my lady. Poor Laurence, moral dilemmas are the bane of his life, and I seriously do not know what I could do to help him…"

"But that is easy," Excidium called from the adjacent clearing.

"What are you talking about, you big oaf?" Emily said, looking both confused and annoyed at her dragon's interference.

"I said it was easy," the Longwing sat up on his haunches. "All you have to do is convince Little that more Temeraire-Iskierka offspring are needed, thus he has to drag Temeraire and Laurence back from Australia at least once every five years, and then you two could meet. It would not be very often, but still… and then Laurence could marry you without having to fear that you two will never meet again."

Emily knitted her eyebrows. "I do not see why you are coming up with this idea now. I thought you hated Laurence."

"Why, I thought you too hated him, and you still went and got yourself impregnated by him," her dragon replied sarcastically. "I do no like him and I do not think I ever will, but I want to see you happy, Emily dearest, and apparently he is the only one who can make you happy."

"Why, the idea is not half bad," Temeraire had to admit. "Actually, it is so good it could as well have been _my_ idea."

"Oh, come on, do you think Little will be so indulgent?" Emily rolled her eyes. "He would see through such a request in a trice."

"But that does not mean he would not be willing to help," Temeraire said.

"Still, do not expect me to go and beseech him to let Laurence come back once in a while," Emily crossed her arms. "Laurence does not want me, so I will not be begging for his return."

"As stubborn as a mule," Excidium sighed.

"A mule? Yum," Temeraire commented.

"I am no more stubborn than Laurence is," Emily snapped, "and I would be much obliged if you did not liken me to animals, Excidium!"

"But Emily… I think this is really a good idea," Jason said. "And _you_ wouldn't have to beg Little… I would gladly do it for you once we go back to Dover. I can make those puppy eyes pretty well."

Lady Allendale could not hold back her laughter. "Oh, you little rascal," she ruffled the boy's hair. "Puppy eyes were your father's speciality when he was a child. He could soften anyone with it… anyone, but his own father."

"I think I wouldn't have liked my grandpa much," Jason grimaced. "But what do you say, Emily? Will you go and tell papa that he can marry you because you have a chance at happiness?"

"I will not go near Laurence, not now, not ever," Emily replied aloofly. "I am tired. Adeline, I suggest we leave. Bye, Excidium, bye, Temeraire."

"She is a hard nut," Temeraire murmured as he and Excidium stared after the small group of people walking towards the covert gates.

"A hard nut," Excidium nodded. "But have you heard of an uncrackable nut?"

Temeraire gave the other dragon an almost friendly look. "No, I think not."

oOo

Laurence spent the following weeks drifting in and out of lethargy – his body was healing nicely, but his soul had suffered injuries he felt beyond repair. The knowledge that he had caused Emily pain in sending her away was eating away at him, even if he had rejected her having her best interests in mind.

Jason and Lady Allendale visited him every day, bringing him letters from Temeraire that the dragon had dictated for Jason, and as soon as Laurence felt strong enough to be sitting in bed instead of lying on his side or stomach, he wrote his replies himself instead of letting his son scribble down his words with terrible spelling. The letters he sent to and received from Temeraire, however, lacked any intimacy – he did not feel like pouring his heart out to his dragon in a letter he dictated for someone else, even if that someone else was his own son. Even when he was writing his letters himself, he knew that someone – either Jason or Lady Allendale – would be required to read them out to Temeraire, therefore he could not bring himself to voice his deepest concerns in his letters, or admit his guilt or simply complain about the absurdity of the whole situation.

He missed his time with Temeraire – whenever he was alone with his dragon, he could be himself, really himself, and now, their correspondence lacking the complete openness they had always treated each other with, he felt incomplete.

It was not only Temeraire he missed – Emily he missed just as much, and sometimes perhaps even more.

At his lonely moments he often found himself daydreaming of the 'what if' – a life with Emily, their children, in perfect happiness and harmony, Temeraire claiming that their newly hatched egg was noisy and smelly, Jason reading out fairy tales to his little brother or sister… it felt so nice just to picture the idyll what could have been, had he not committed treason. Then again, he repeatedly had to remind himself, if he had not become a traitor, Jason probably would never have been born, and then Jane would not have died and he would never have fallen in love with Emily. Or would he have…?

He remembered considering her a pretty girl even before Jason's birth, and on a few occasions he had even noted it to himself that the mere thought of 'little Emily' being pretty was sinful and highly improper. Six years earlier he had managed to banish the thoughts of her being pretty, but he no longer could. She was not only pretty – for him she was beautiful. Not the perfect, Greek goddess sort of beauty like Edith was, but a strong and vibrant beauty nevertheless. And most of her beauty came from inside – from her fiery soul and her loyalty, and not even her recent nastiness could overshadow her good qualities – at least not enough; the goodness in her shone through the crust of ice engulfing her heart and melted the ice from inside. She was a ray of sunshine, volatile in its intensity of heat, but warming nevertheless if one basked long enough in it to feel its strength.

Laurence missed the sunshine that was Emily. His room was pleasantly bright, the rising sun always came across the window, but in his heart darkness dwelt. This darkness dissolved somewhat every time Jason and his mother came for a visit, but as soon as they left, Laurence sank back into lethargy. If only Temeraire were here to curl around him and tell him something absurdly optimistic like he always did…

It was possible even Temeraire would lash out at him just like Lady Allendale had, demanding that he marry Emily… but arguing with his dragon would still be better than to do nothing. For there was not much to do when his visitors were away. His mother had brought him books, and by the end of July Laurence had finished Voltaire's _Candide_ and Defoe's _Robinson Crusoe_. He thought Temeraire might like the latter and was intent on getting his own copy to take with him to Australia.

From Temeraire's letters he found out that at the middle of July, Iskierka had laid the egg – Granby had allegedly sent word to Temeraire by courier. When Laurence read Temeraire's news, the dragon's words felt proud but also a bit dejected, and Laurence could not be sure if Temeraire was indeed sad or he was just reading nonexistent things between the lines; and if Temeraire _was_ sad, then why.

"Because he's fallen for Iskierka," Jason explained one day when Laurence voiced his concerns about Temeraire's mood, "which is funny, because from what I heard from aviators, dragons never fall in love, they are just attracted to each other and they mate, but…"

Laurence was slightly surprised by the assumption that Temeraire might truly be in love, but not _overly _surprised – if there was a dragon eccentric enough to do everything differently than others, then it was his Temeraire.

From Lady Allendale Laurence had also found out that Emily had remained at the house of the Laurences, only leaving for short visits to Excidium every other day. He was delighted to hear that her morning sicknesses were over and she was once again fit as a fiddle. He longed to see her more and more with every passing day – it was torture to think she was so near, a mere five minute walk, and yet so far… but _he_ had sent her away; he had no right to entertain the hope of seeing her again. Some say hope dies last, but for Laurence hope had long died.

o

The afternoon of the 3rd of August found Laurence standing in front of the house he grew up in, his hand on the brass knocker. The cool metal felt familiar under his fingers and so did the creak of the door as it opened to reveal a maid. She was young, barely over twenty, and gave him a curious look. "What can I help you with, sir?" she asked in a small voice.

"Good afternoon, Miss. I am William Laurence, looking for my mother, Lady Allendale. Is she at home?"

The young maid knitted her eyebrows. "William Laurence? The third son? The…"

"…traitor?" he finished the sentence she might never have finished herself. "Yes, Miss. That is me."

"Sir, I am not sure if I am allowed to let you in…" the maid said uneasily.

"Surely my brother George has not returned?"

"No, sir, but…"

"Master William!" a voice called from the top of the staircase, and an elderly woman raced down the stairs amazingly quick for her age. "Oh, Master William! Budge up, Bella, let him in! This is his house as well!"

"I fear it is not mine in the least," Laurence said with an embarrassed grimace, "and if George found out I tried to enter…"

"Oh, forget about George, I mean, _Lord Allendale_," the elderly woman waved her hand. "Come on in, Master William. As long as your mother lives, and as long as _I_ live, you are always welcome here. What are you still waiting for, Bella? Go and make tea for Master William!"

The young maid blushed and moved to the side to let the older woman, also dressed in a maid's garments, gather Laurence in her arms.

"Josephine," he muttered into her greying hair. "Good old Josephine… it is so good to see you again. You have not changed a bit."

"Ah, Master William, you always knew how to flatter an old woman," Josephine laughed. "But look at you – _you_ have not changed a bit. Still the handsomest of the three Laurence brothers… and the naughtiest as well, I hear…"

Laurence was not sure what 'naughtiness' Josephine had heard about him – other than the treason – but he felt his cheeks redden. Besides his mother it had been only Josephine – a maid, a companion to his mother and a nurse to all three Laurence boys – who had always been able to make him feel embarrassed about his little misdeeds. She had never made a secret of favouring the youngest of the three brothers over the other two, and she had practically been a second mother to him.

_Well, she might have heard about me having got two women pregnant and having married neither,_ he thought sourly as he released the old maid. "Josephine, I do not intend to stay and make you any trouble, I only wish to speak with my mother."

"I am afraid she isn't at home," Josephine shook her head. "She and young Master Jason went to the fair." She gave him a reminiscent smile. "I remember taking you to the fair, Master William. You too loved the clowns and the smell of fresh-baked pies… your little boy is so much like you, and not only in his looks."

Laurence felt a little ridiculous at being called 'Master William' at the age of forty-two, but apparently for his one-time nurse he was still the same child he once had been, and he decided not to bring it to her attention that he had grown up. "Josephine, do you know when they are to return?"

"They left just half an hour ago, I do not think they will return for a while," the old maid shrugged. "But why do you not come in and wait for them with a cup of tea?"

"Thank you, Josephine, but I do not wish to impose, and perhaps you can help too… I have just been released from Buckingham House and been ordered to appear at St. James's Palace in the morning for an audience with the Prince Regent." He wished he could have had a chance to thank the old Queen Charlotte for the excellent medical care he had been provided with, but she had allegedly been away, and Laurence was not in the least sure he would have been granted a chance to talk to her, even if she had been at home. "I would like to return to the covert," he carried on, "to see my dragon before I visit the prince tomorrow. I have not seen Temeraire for six weeks."

"Of course, you must be missing him… but I do not understand how I could help you," Josephine frowned.

Laurence blushed. "I must admit I have no money on me, I did not deem it necessary to take any to the parade, and... you must have heard what happened there. The covert is at the other end of London, and I still do not feel strong enough to undertake a walk that long. I could probably ask a coachman to take me there and wait for the money until I collect it from my room, but I am not sure if _any_ coachman would be willing to let a client disappear into a covert where he could not follow them for fear of dragons… To make a long story short, I need a few pennies for a carriage if that is not too big a request. I shall naturally repay them as soon as I have my things back."

"But Master William, what are you thinking?" Josephine tutted. "I can assure you that your family can afford to pay a carriage ride for you without…"

But Laurence was no longer paying attention to her, for at that moment an angel appeared on the top of the staircase, wearing a white dressing gown with a silk sash tied under her breasts, accentuating the gentle curve of her belly. Her condition was barely recognisable yet, but one could see it if one knew what one was looking for. With her slightly rounded belly, the angel looked lovelier and more feminine than he had ever seen her.

"Emily…" he whispered, his throat closing as his eyes shifted from her face to her midsection, then back to her face. Her eyes held sorrow, longing, defiance, but perhaps even a bit of forgiveness.

"Laurence," she whispered back, her eyes never leaving his.

Before he could have considered what he was doing, his legs were carrying him up the stairs, to the step right below the one she was standing on, but there his mind stopped him in his tracks before his instincts could have overridden his rationality.

He was normally almost a head taller than her, but now he was slightly looking up at her, silently, pleadingly, although he did not even know what exactly he was pleading for – for understanding? For absolution? He was not really hoping for either, but he was happy to see her at least, even if just for a short while, and even if this encounter might only make his heart ache even more afterwards. "Emily…" he felt his mouth had gone as dry as a parchment and he could not speak, but perhaps it was better not to speak, for he had no idea what to tell her. She, however, spared him the need to speak with bending her head and plastering her lips to his.

Slipping his arms around her waist, drawing her as close as he could without fear of harming the baby, he lost himself in the kiss. His heart soared and sank at the same time, knowing that this was just momentary pleasure about to end soon forever. Guilt gnawed at the back of his mind, well aware that he was doing exactly what he had asked her six weeks earlier not to do: he was using the moment, seizing the day. _Carpe diem_.

Breathless, he broke away, noting to himself that Josephine and Bella had tactfully left.

"Have you… forgiven me?" he panted, his eyes boring deep into Emily's.

"No, Laurence… I am not sure if I ever could… but there is something you must know. It was actually Excidium's idea and Temeraire seconded it, and I don't even know why I'm telling you this after I swore in my anger I would not…" she let out a small laugh and ran her fingers across his hair. "I think I love you too much not to tell you. Damn it," she grimaced, looking annoyed at herself, "I love you, Laurence. You bloody well do not deserve it and I should be sending you to hell once again, but… I cannot make myself do that. And I hate you for this… for making me love you so much."

"Oh, Emily…" Exhaling contentedly, he buried his face into the crook of her neck. "I think… neither of us deserves the love of the other… we have both sinned against each other, too much to ever be able to forget… but love has a weird sense of humour and more often than not it rewards the undeserving." Breathing in her fresh and sweet scent – she smelled of fruits, lemons, perhaps – he muttered into her shoulder, "But you started telling me something. Something about Excidium's idea."

"Oh… yes. Almost forgot," Emily chuckled, pressing a kiss against his temple. "So… Excidium thought that we could ask Little to… drag you and Temeraire back to England once in a while under the pretext that Temeraire needs to give Iskierka more eggs. I am not sure if this could work, if Little would be willing to help us at all, but Jason offered to help convince him… your son can be quite convincing, you know… And well, even if Little obliged, we still would not be seeing each other more often than once in every four or five years, but… there is hope. Small, but existent. So… what do you say, Laurence?"

He drew back a bit, caught her right hand that had gently been caressing his temple and brought it to his lips. With her hand pressed against his lips, he squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that wanted to escape. There was hope. Slim, but still… He felt as though a heavy weight had been taken off his shoulders – probably he no longer had to play the role of the unapproachable ice prince. His loved ones had taken this weight off of him, having decided in his place.

"Apparently… you are all working against me," he sent her a playful grin. "You, Jason, Mother, our dragons… who am I to continue swimming against the tide? I bow before your will… and if there is the slimmest chance of me seeing you again… of making love to you again… then obviously I cannot leave you unmarried… can I?"

She gave him a naughty grin. "No, Laurence. I believe you cannot. That would be highly improper. And now… where were we before all the mushy confessions?"

"Kissing, I think," he reddened.

"Yeah… I think that is right," she ran a finger seductively down his chest, stopping just below his waistline. "Did you know that pregnancy increases a woman's… needs?"

His cheeks burning but his eyes shining with joy, he shook his head. "I did not know that… Uh… according to Josephine… Mother will not return for hours, so perhaps I could do something for your… needs."

"That's more like it," Emily smirked, grabbing his neckcloth. "What about moving this to my bedroom, eh, Captain Laurence?"

"Sounds like a challenge, Captain Roland. Just please… go easy on my injured back."

oOo

**A/N: Well, that was a proper pre-Valentine Day's present, wasn't it? ;)**

**Be so kind and leave a review! :)**


	17. Inherited Love

**A/N: thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter 16, and doubly thanks to T2238! ;)**

**Chapter 17**

**Inherited Love**

Upon returning to the house, Lady Allendale was greeted by Josephine and her news that 'Master William' had come for a visit.

"Oh, he has been released from Buckingham House?" the lady clasped her hands in joy. "Then he really must be feeling better! But how come they released him so suddenly? He did not say anything about this when we visited him yesterday…"

"Probably he did not know," the old maid shrugged, "but I expect he could tell you more about this than I could. Also about his expected audience at St. James's Palace tomorrow…"

"An audience with the Prince Regent?" Lady Allendale's eyes widened. "Could it be possible the prince wants to express his gratitude to Will through… oh, no," she clutched at the railing of the staircase, vehemently fanning herself against the near-faint the mere idea had caused her. "Let us not even think of that… that would be simply too much to ask for…" And still, she could not extinguish the tiny flame of hope that had been ignited in her heart upon hearing the news.

"What should we not even think of?" Jason looked up at her, munching on an enormous pie four times the size of his head.

"Nothing, my dear… let us go in and look for your father, shall we?" Lady Allendale ushered him up the stairs.

"Er… my lady…" Josephine cleared her throat, "I am not sure you should… disturb him now."

"Disturb him?" the countess arched an eyebrow at the maid. "What are you talking about, Josephine?"

The other woman blushed. "My lady, Master William is with Miss Emily… in her room, I think. At least, they left in that direction… I expect they must be… deep… in conversation."

"Oh," Lady Allendale too reddened.

"Conversation?" Jason asked with a dubious expression. "Aren't they making love instead?"

"Why, young Master Jason knows a little too much for his age, does he not?" Josephine said, half-embarrassed, half-amused.

"Not _that_ much," Jason shrugged. "You know, Josephine, papa did not even want to tell me this, but he knew I would not leave him alone until he did… Er… grandma, if papa left Buckingham House, then we cannot go back there to say good-bye to the Queen, can we?"

"No, my dear, I fear we cannot."

"Oh," the boy pouted. "Too bad. I liked her. Do you think I could write her a letter?"

"Well, why not?" Lady Allendale smiled, although she doubted if Jason's letter would ever reach the Queen, and even more if Her Majesty would care to respond. "Well, then… please bring us each a cup of tea to the drawing room, Josephine… and we shall wait for William and Emily to finish… their conversation."

"Lovemaking, grandma," Jason said with his mouth full. "Papa said we should name things by their name."

Lady Allendale did not know if she should laugh or chide the boy, so she chose not to comment at all.

oOo

"I am sorry, Will," Emily muttered with a guilty expression but also some mischief glinting in her eyes. "I tried, and I managed to stop myself before I caused you any permanent harm, but I know it was still a bit too late. I promise to be more careful the next time around. Can you forgive me?"

He let out a small laugh. "At least you did not tear up the shot-wound, that is something. And you caught yourself just in time… no permanent damage, just a few shallow scratches. Besides… it must be at least partly my fault."

"Yours?"

"Yes… I must be doing something really well if that makes you lose control like that every time," he grinned a little bashfully.

"And I wanted to tell you not to get a big head," she chuckled into her pillow. "But that might be too late, eh?"

"Perhaps, but apparently you love me despite my having a big head… I am such a lucky man." He reached out and ran his index finger down the side of her face, gently cupping her chin. "Emily, will you marry me?"

"What, no dropping to your knees? No bouquet of roses?" she arched an eyebrow at him challengingly.

He made an embarrassed grimace. "I thought you were not the girl for the usual mushy approach."

"Well, I am not, I was just pulling your leg, silly." She propped herself on her elbow and looked down at him with a naughty smile. "This proposal was just fine, and my answer is naturally yes." She bent and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"Pragmatic, just like your mother," he said. "Do you know how easily and pragmatically she turned down my proposal?"

"No, but I can imagine. What was her main reason for rejecting you?"

"Her rank. She said she could not give me orders if she swore before the altar to obey me."

Emily let out a giggle. "Well, I hope you aren't expecting _me _to obey you, Will Laurence!"

He rolled his eyes. "If I value my life, I shall not even think of such a thing!"

"Good," she said with a satisfied grin, "apparently you still remember my little friend I inherited from Mother."

"You mean the pistol? How could I ever forget it? If not for that pistol, this little one would not be in here," he gently caressed her abdomen, "and we would never have admitted to loving each other. Which would be a shame, would it not?"

"Yes, definitely," she rubbed the tip of her nose to his. "And you know what? That pistol is not the only thing I inherited from Mother."

"No, you have her nose, though yours is even prettier… and you have her…" his eyes shifted lower, his cheeks turning pink.

"I did not mean those," Emily chortled. "I inherited from her my taste in men. I could even say… I inherited her love for you, however stupid that sounds."

"It does not sound stupid. It sounds endearing." He also propped himself on his elbow, his mouth seeking out hers. In an instant her arms were wound around his neck and she was drawing him down, upon herself, but he pulled back. "Not this time, Captain Roland."

"Not this time _what_?" she knitted her eyebrows.

"This time you do not get to claw at my back. You on top."

"Mm," she purred with a naughty smirk. "Not a bad idea… I always liked you serving under me…"

oOo

Laurence involuntarily let out a hiss of pain as Temeraire curled around him a little too tightly and enthusiastically.

"Laurence! What happened? Are you well? Have I hurt you?" the dragon asked, worry gleaming in his eyes, and the coils of his tail slackening a bit around him.

"No, not really," the man reddened, "just my back…"

"Does your wound still hurt?"

"Er… not exactly," Laurence blushed even more. "It was Emily. Again."

Temeraire's roar of laughter echoed throughout the covert. "Emily? Oh, Laurence, then you are almost lucky to be apart from her soon… I doubt if your back could take the hardships of marriage on the long run… But… you _are_ marrying her after all, are you not?"

"I seriously hope he is," Excidium chimed in from the neighbouring clearing. "Or…" he pulled a talon in front of his neck, delivering a very clear message what he would like to do with Laurence in case Laurence did not do the right thing.

Gulping at the blunt message and forcing a smile on his face, Laurence nodded. "Of course I am going to marry her!"

Excidium snorted, whether in contempt or in some sort of recognition, Laurence could not decide.

"Laurence…" Temeraire bent his head to talk in as hushed a tone as a dragon of twenty tons could manage, "do you think dragons could get married too? If they wanted?"

"What?" the man's eyebrows shot up high on his forehead.

"Well…" Temeraire looked embarrassed. "If Iskierka would not mind… I would not mind marrying her…"

Laurence had to struggle with his facial muscles to stay straight. Marriage for dragons – what a preposterous idea! Not to mention that Iskierka probably would never consent to such a thing, and even if she did, where would they get a priest willing to marry dragons?!

"Er… well… I am not sure about this, my dear…"

"But _I_ am sure. I want to marry her. I have realised that I really, really love her, however strange that may sound."

"Well, it _is_ a bit strange," Laurence admitted. "You two have been snarling at each other ever since we returned to England…"

"Like you and Emily," Temeraire replied.

"You have a point…"

"I usually do. So, would you please ask for her hand in marriage from Captain Granby? Like I were your son or something?"

Laurence did not dare imagine the expression Granby would be wearing upon hearing such a proposal. Then again… if dragons had been allowed to become officers and got epaulets, if they had begun receiving pay to build their own pavilions, then why would they be denied the chance to marry?

Why? – he replied his own question. Because they did not believe in God, therefore could not repeat and mean the words of the Anglican matrimonial ceremony. And would dragon breeders not reject the idea, saying that if two dragons swore to 'forsake all other', then they would be unavailable for breeding with others, thus endangering the sustainment of England's dragon population? Then again, Laurence thought, most dragons never fell in love – actually the only one he had ever heard of being in love was Temeraire and possibly Iskierka – so very likely other dragons would not wish to follow their example.

"Temeraire," he patted his dragon's neck, "I would love to help you, but there are certain problems that might arise and make it impossible for you to get married. For once, you cannot be sure Iskierka would be willing to be your wife, although there is a great chance she would not refuse... Secondly, neither of you are Christians, therefore an honest Christian ceremony is completely ruled out. Thirdly, I have no power to make such a thing possible when there is no institution established for the purpose. Pray do not be sad…" he sighed, seeing how Temeraire hung his head, "you and Iskierka could always promise each other faithfulness and keep it… and that is almost like marriage. What do you say?"

"Well, I expect that is better than nothing," Temeraire sighed. "But will you ask Granby for me?"

"Are you afraid to ask Iskierka herself?" Laurence had to hide a grin.

"Well…" his dragon looked abashed, "a little."

Laurence could no longer hold back his laughter and slumped against Temeraire's flank.

"It is not very nice to laugh at me," the dragon said in a hurt tone.

"I am sorry, my dear," Laurence wiped the tears of laughter, "I just… remembered the way it all started for you and Iskierka… you being her tutor and guardian while she was in the egg… then she got out, annoyed the living daylight out all of us, and a few months later claimed that she wanted to have your egg…"

"The story is once again a little bit like yours and Emily's is it not?" Temeraire said with a meaningful glance. "You used to be her tutor and almost-guardian, then she annoyed the living daylight out of you and everyone else… and now she is having your egg."

"You are right," Laurence admitted with a smile. "I would never have drawn the parallel between you two and us two, but… you are right."

"And you are now marrying Emily, so why would Iskierka and I not have the right to marry… if she wanted me at all?"

"I am sure she wants you," Laurence pressed his cheek to Temeraire's muzzle. "If a woman slights a man in the way Iskierka slights you… then it can only mean she loves you. I know it from experience."

Heaving a contented sigh and looking less lovelorn all of a sudden, Temeraire bent his head on his forelegs. "When are we going back to Dover?"

"I do not know, my dear. First I have appear before the Prince Regent, tomorrow."

"But what for?"

Laurence shrugged. "I expect he wants to publicly thank me for having saved him. The prince is not exactly good-natured, nor is he famed for his generosity… but once in a while he has to exercise humility, and saying thanks to an aviator… and a convict at that, would give him an image of being a better man than he really is."

"Oh, so it is all just pretence?" Temeraire asked disappointedly.

Laurence pursed his lips. "Yes, my dear. I am quite sure it is."

oOo

"We have heard a lot about you, William Laurence," the Prince Regent said with a bored face and in a bored voice. He gave Laurence the impression of a fat toad with his extended midsection and legs dangling idly down from the pillowed seat of the throne. _The frog prince_, he thought, remembering one of Grimm's fairy tales he had read together with Jason. He was fighting with his facial muscles to stay straight and not reveal his disgust and annoyance at the prince's posture and expression, nor his amusement of likening His Royal Highness to that frog illustration he had seen in _Grimm's Fairy Tales_.

"Yes, a lot, indeed… both good and bad," the prince carried on, not the slightest hint of good intention in his voice. He looked and sounded like someone who wanted to get the whole audience over with to be able to go outside for some fresh air. The audience chamber, as most rooms in a summer heat, managed to draw all the hot air in and hold it inside, not releasing a bit of it, despite the windows being open. "We know well that you committed treason in the year seven, taking the cure for the dragon plague over to France. We know you were not hanged as long as your dragon was obedient in the breeding grounds, and we know that your sentence was eventually commuted to banishment to Australia. We have also found out that the current Admiral of the Air required your dragon's services here in England, that is why you have returned, and now you are about to leave again."

The prince paused, giving Laurence a look that, instead of searching, rather seemed to hold the silent message 'speak up and get out, you are wasting my time'. Laurence, however, did not speak as long as not asked a direct question and only inclined his head in confirmation of everything the prince had said.

"We must admit we are a little confused about where your loyalties lie, Mr. Laurence," the Prince Regent droned on, clearly refusing to call him 'Captain'. "You betrayed Britain, yet you were willing to die for us, and through us, for the country. How can you explain that?"

"Your Royal Highness," Laurence replied, "in my heart I have always been loyal to the empire, but when I found out that the British government wanted to murder every dragon – thousands, if not hundreds of thousands throughout the world – then I could not let that happen. What I did in carrying the cure over the Channel was not _against_ my country, but _for_ the life of thousands of sentient beings. I do not expect anyone who owns no dragon to understand my motivation, and I am not going to defend myself against the charge of treason, as I did not try to defend myself ten years ago when I was court-martialled. The same way, I shall not try to further my cause through an attempt of showing myself a hero. Your Royal Highness, you must know that my actions at the parade were not planned out like the treason had been, they were completely instinctive. I did not know I would be getting a ball into my back, I just acted because I had to. I might as well have saved you without having suffered any bodily harm."

The prince raised an eyebrow at him, looking dubious of both his words and the soundness of his mind. "Belittling your merits, are you, Mr. Laurence?" When Laurence did not reply, the prince gave a tired sigh. "Oh, of course. We have heard from Wellington that you are a sentimental romantic who would not stand being praised for something he did not do…" He wiped his brow with a lacy handkerchief. Laurence felt his own cloak soaked and plastered to his back, but at least his face was not beading as noticeably as the prince's – then again, Laurence had no surplus of weight while His Royal Highness had at least sixty pounds more than he should have.

"So what are we to do with you, Mr. Laurence?" the Prince Regent said. "Whether you were aware that you were likely to be shot or not, it does not matter. You saved our life and nearly lost yours, and we are grateful to you and wish to express our gratitude through a reward."

Laurence's heart missed a beat. Surely the Prince was not meaning…?

"You are free to ask for a reward for yourself. Anything you wish… anything within the boundaries of sensibility and morality. Anything… _but the cancellation of your sentence_."

Laurence's heart began beating again, but slowly and dejectedly. The spark of hope that had turned into a roaring fire for a few seconds was now extinguished. He remained silent, his eyes defiantly fixed on a leaf-ornament right over the throne.

"You are hesitant," the Prince Regent observed. "Well, let us help you decide."

_Help me decide?_ Laurence thought sourly. This only confirmed that His Royal Highness wanted the audience to be over with, as soon as possible. In soul he was probably already with one of his mistresses…

"We have heard you had a son," the prince went on, "and a second child on the way. Feel free to ask something for them. A smaller piece of land, a modest title, perhaps?"

Laurence did not know where the prince could have heard about his child-to-be-born, but he knew he was in no position to enquire. "Your Royal Highness," he said, "my children's future is secured. They are going to be aviators. My son already loves dragons too much to consider any other profession, he told me that himself, and since my second child too will grow up at the Dover covert, there is no doubt he or she too will wish to become an aviator. As you know, Your Royal Highness, aviators do not have time for managing land and they have no need for a title – none, besides their rank in the Aerial Corps. I am most grateful for your offer, but I do not wish to ask anything for my children. They will be happy either way."

The prince gave him an expression that suggested he thought Laurence was an idiot. "And your wife? I mean… the mother of your children?" he corrected himself, apparently having heard that Laurence was yet unmarried. "Do you not wish anything for her?"

"No, Your Royal Highness. She is a captain of the Corps already, a formation leader, and perfectly content with her life. My family needs nothing. However… I have a request concerning someone else, outside my family."

The Prince Regent once again wiped his forehead with his handkerchief and said with a groan, "Speak up, Mr. Laurence."

"Your Royal Highness, when, in my sickbed, I heard the full story of the assassination and learned that the one trying to kill you was a one-time lieutenant named Dayes, I could not help but think how terrible it must be for people who grew up within the Corps to have to leave it. They never learned any other profession, they are lost in the world of non-aviators. Of course I do not feel sorry for Dayes, because his leaving the Corps does not justify his recent actions, and as far as I know he left the Corps out of his own free will, out of shame for having failed at winning a dragon for himself. That dragon he did not manage to win was my Temeraire. But I digress, and I beg for your forgiveness for that."

The Prince Regent nodded tiredly, and Laurence carried on. "Dayes could have stayed in the Corps if he had wanted to, but out of pride and shame he did not, and outside the Corps he obviously could not find a profession and eventually ended up among the protesters. However, there is a man who did not leave the Corps out of his own free will… a good man who was sent away because my judges could not be convinced that he had not known about my planned treason. The truth is that he really did not know about it. He was innocent, Your Royal Highness. This man is called Henry Ferris, and he was my first lieutenant. I do not know what has become of him since he was forced to leave, but if he were given a chance to return and regain his rank of lieutenant, I would be much obliged."

"So, you are asking amnesty for your one-time officer?" the prince asked, sounding amused. "You are indeed a romantic fool, Mr. Laurence… but so be it. We shall see to it that if Mr. Ferris wishes to return to the Aerial Corps, he may do so."

"Thank you very much, Your Royal Highness," Laurence bowed. "And if I may be so bold… I have a second request."

"Bold sounds more interesting than self-sacrificing and sentimental," the Prince Regent replied, straightening himself in the throne, his face looking much less bored all of a sudden. "Speak away, Mr. Laurence. What else can the Crown do for you?"

"Once again, I am not asking something for myself, Your Royal Highness. I am asking for something for my dragon, Temeraire. It so happens that he fell in love with a really… nice dragon girl," Laurence had to force out the word 'nice', as the description fit Iskierka so very little. "You must know, Your Royal Highness, that my dragon is probably the most recalcitrant one in whole Britain, and the one with the most staggering ideas. This time he has got it into his head that he wishes to marry his loved one, if she agrees at all."

"Marry?" the prince nearly laughed out. "But dragons do not fall in love! They just mate. They are animals!"

"They are sentient beings, Your Royal Highness, and Temeraire is truly one of a kind, much more intelligent than dragons in general, and more intelligent than most humans, I might add. He thinks like humans and feels like humans, only his thoughts are always devoid of wrongful intents and his feelings are always pure; something most people cannot claim about themselves. And if he is a sentient being and in love, then I believe he has a right to marry, however, there is no institution in England that enables such an act. I am asking you to establish an authority that has the right to marry dragons."

"But… but… that is… preposterous!" the prince stammered, no longer amused. "No priest would ever be willing…"

"Then give the authority to someone else, not a man of the church. This ceremony need not include biblical phrases, it just needs to be legal, providing a paper that the captains of the married dragons can keep. Please, Your Royal Highness, consider this. You would make a dragon very, very happy."

"…and I would scandalise the Church of England," the prince thought aloud. "Hmm… I might even like the idea, Mr. Laurence," he murmured, his face distorted into a naughty smirk. Laurence knew that the Prince Regent had never been particularly supportive of religion and anything to do with it, swinging from accepting the Catholic Relief Act to rejecting it and vice versa; and he even felt a little guilty for having given the prince another chance to annoy the Church of England, but for Temeraire he had to do it.

"We shall think about it," the prince said finally. "You may now return to Dover and wait for the next dragon transport sailing off to New South Wales. We shall send you a notice about our decision."

Laurence bowed, knowing that the audience had come to an end. "Thank you for your time and generosity, Your Royal Highness."

o

"I hope you are satisfied, Mother," the Prince Regent grunted upon entering the small room adjacent to the audience chamber.

The Queen, who had heard the audience through the door left an inch open at her request, gave her son a sad smile. "I wish I could be, George."

"What else do you expect of me?" the prince rolled his eyes. "I am letting his fired lieutenant return and even his dragon get married – a dragon, getting married, for Christ's sake! People will think I am an idiot for allowing that, but I still will do it!"

"Of course, George, you are a real hero," his mother said sarcastically.

"A hero, yes! I have been as generous as one can expect!" he snapped.

Queen Charlotte shook her head. "_William Laurence _is a generous man, not you, George. I know you well, my son, and I know you think him a fool for having asked things for his friends instead of himself, but I am telling you, he is no fool. He is a man who is considered by everyone dishonourable, but who has more honour in his little finger than many, you included, could ever possess. I hope with time you will see that too… and realise what would make you truly generous."

Fuming, the prince turned on his heels and marched out, leaving the Queen behind, but knowing that her words would not leave him alone for quite a while.

oOo

"Me? Marrying dragons?!" Admiral Little hissed at Laurence three days later at the Dover covert, shaking a crumpled sheet of paper in his face. The seal with the royal coat of arms of the House of Hanover was clearly visible on its edge even as he shook it. "You and your beast and your idiotic ideas! You know, after this I should withdraw my promise of considering calling you two back once in a while!"

"But you will not… because you are much softer on the inside than you try to look on the outside," Emily said with a grin, "and we are so very grateful to you for your help!"

"Oh, stop fawning, Roland, for heaven's sake," Little groaned. "All right, all right, I will do it… _if_ Iskierka does not reject Temeraire, of course." There was a little hope in his voice that Temeraire would indeed be rejected, but Laurence did not find it in his heart to be mad at the admiral. He understood well how utterly awkward a task Little was facing. Although, he had to remind himself, not nearly as awkward as the one he, Laurence was facing in having to approach Granby with the proposal.

o

Granby's jaw dropped. "You do not mean it!"

"I do," Laurence shrugged, "but this was Temeraire's request, I am only trying to help him. So, what do you say?"

"Oh, well," Granby scratched his jaw, "I would not mind becoming related to you through our children… I mean, our dragons, but… this is just weird. Temeraire always has such… unusual ideas."

"Unusual is a bit of an understatement," Laurence agreed.

"Of course," Granby went on, "if Iskierka agrees, they have my blessings… especially because I _want to_ see Little having to perform the ceremony," he added with a wink. "I love seeing the man sweating… but I can't decide for Iskierka. Temeraire will just have to ask her himself."

Laurence suppressed a chuckle. He knew how frightened Temeraire was of the idea of proposing, but every man had to do it at least once… Laurence himself had done it three times before a woman actually accepted. He hoped Temeraire would not be facing a rejection like he had twice. "Do you think… he has a chance to receive a yes as an answer?"

"Had you seen Iskierka in the past few weeks, being all forlorn and grouchy in Temeraire's absence, you wouldn't have any doubts."

"But… what if it was not his absence that made her grouchy? Women tend to be emotionally unstable when they are expecting, and Iskierka has been gravid until recently…"

"Eh, she has been gravid twice before and she was not behaving like this the first two times around… I think she has only fallen for Temeraire recently, although she has always been attracted to him."

"The feeling must be mutual," Laurence grinned. "Earlier Temeraire used to fume at the mere mention of her name, which could only mean he _liked_ her, but… now he _loves_ her. I know he does."

"All right then, bring Temeraire to Iskierka's clearing tonight, and let us hope for the best," Granby slapped Laurence on the shoulder, making him wince. "What? Is your wound still hurting?"

"No," Laurence felt a flush rise in his cheeks. "The shot wound was much lower."

"Oh," Granby said as understanding dawned on him. "Little Miss Roland has been mistreating you again?"

"Just once," Laurence muttered, not meeting Granby's eyes. "We have decided to wait with a repeat… till the wedding night."

"To give your back a chance to heal until then, eh?" the other man laughed.

Laurence found he was sweating worse than the Prince Regent had the other day. "You could say that…"

"When is the big day again?"

"Next Saturday," Laurence replied with a smile. "I still cannot believe I am actually getting married… Had someone ten years ago told me that I would be marrying my one-time runner… the daughter of my one-time lover… I would have said they were mad. Life is full of surprises. If only… I did not have to leave mere days after the wedding…"

Granby gave him a compassionate look. "When is the ship sailing out?"

"On the twenty-fourth August, if the tide allows," Laurence sighed. "But at least I get to sail with Riley again… The _Allegiance _was supposed to leave port over a month ago, but there were unexpected repairs to be made, so I have heard."

"What, did someone set the galley on fire again?"

"No," Laurence laughed lightly. "Though I would not mind if someone did now… to delay my departure."

Granby gently squeezed his friend's shoulder, careful to not cause him any pain. "I know just what you need against such dark thoughts, old chum. Something alcoholic. And lots of it."

o

Temeraire's heart was hammering so loudly and frantically against his ribcage that he thought the whole covert could hear it. Invisible witches must have conjured an enormous lump into his throat and with every intake of breath the lump made its presence felt more and more.

"Everything is going to be all right," Laurence muttered to him as they walked towards the elegant pavilion in which Iskierka lay, her steaming red coils curled around her. "Courage, my dear. Courage and faith."

"Easy to say," Temeraire replied heavily.

"Just remember all the wonderful things you have done. You have saved Britain from the French at least a dozen times, you have saved possibly every dragon on the globe and you managed to command dozens of them during the invasion! You should be proud of your accomplishments, and confident in everything you do… even in asking for her hand. Go on," he patted Temeraire's flank, "and the best of luck."

Temeraire gently pulled Laurence to himself, but only for a brief moment, then released him, and, straightening his back, walked towards the pavilion while Laurence left in the opposite direction.

Iskierka seemed to be dozing when he arrived and did not even open her eyes when he cleared his throat. Therefore he cleared his throat again.

"So you do not want to leave?" she grunted, her eyes still closed.

"No, I have just arrived, why would I want to leave?" he said, trying to sound confident, but he felt that all the confidence he might have gained from Laurence's encouraging words had left him in an instant.

"And why have you come?" she finally opened one yellow eye, and even like this, her stare seemed piercing. Temeraire wondered how someone could look at him so piercingly with only one eye open.

"I… er… I was just wondering… what you thought of today's weather?" he asked, wishing he could bang his head into a massive wall, though Iskierka very likely would not be happy if he began banging his head into the wall of her pavilion and happened to collapse it upon her.

"Absolutely sweltering," she replied coldly, "although I do not mind it. I suppose Kaziliks enjoy hot weather, we come from Turkey, after all…"

"Oh, Turkey, yes…"

"Honestly, what is this stupid small talk?" she opened her other eye as well. "You sound like you were not yourself but some imbecile like that… Volly," she uttered the name of the little Winchester with contempt.

"I am no imbecile," Temeraire puffed up his ruff, although his indignation did not stretch as far as defending Volly whose gluttony had nearly caused Laurence to die.

"Then why are you behaving like one?"

"Because I was unsure how to approach the matter of proposing to you, but tell you what, I am not even sure I should have…"

"Proposing?" she interrupted. "Proposing what? If you want me to play along in another dirty little scheme of yours to keep Laurence in England, then my answer is no, enough of the deceit, and…"

"Would you at least let me finish what I began?" he roared, both in anger and nervousness. Things were slipping out of his claws, irrevocably… Laurence would be so disappointed in him!

"I would, if you did not roar my head off," she fumed, in both senses of the word, a larger spurt of steam issuing from her nostrils, directly into Temeraire's eyes.

"And I would finish it, if you did not try to blind me," he retorted.

"All right, go on, spit it out, what do you want from me?" she asked shrilly.

"I wanted to ask for your hand in marriage, but I honestly begin to think it was a wrong idea!"

"I do not even have a hand to ask for in marriage, I have claws, and… wait… what did you say?" Iskierka blinked.

"I have just proposed to you, I think," Temeraire said sourly, "and I expect you to refuse, so just go on, say no, for all I care…"

"You actually _care_," she said, her voice much softer than before, and Temeraire wondered if she was indeed fluttering her eyelashes at him, as much as a dragon could do such a thing.

"Er…" was all he managed to comment before Iskierka pressed her muzzle to his.

"You silly, silly boy… you are so endearing when you are so silly…"

"Er…" he swallowed, "does it mean a yes?"

"Definitely," she cooed, something he had not thought she was capable or willing of. "But do tell, how can two dragons get married?"

"Well…" Temeraire said, his heart practically bursting with joy, "Laurence asked the Prince Regent to make it possible and the Prince Regent appointed Admiral Little to perform the ceremony. I have no idea what wording he will use, as this is not an Anglican ceremony, but I am sure he will think of something."

"Do I get to wear a wreath of roses? I like roses."

"I never knew you did."

"Well, big boy, there is still a lot you have to learn about me… but we have almost two hundred years before us to get to know each other better…"

"Yes," Temeraire rubbed his muzzle to hers. "We do."

oOo

"Dearly beloved," a certain Reverend Mallory, the only priest in Dover courageous enough to enter the covert, opened his arms towards the large group of people gathered before Iskierka's pavilion. The pavilion was adorned with garlands of roses, white, pink and yellow, and inside there were several smaller tables laden with all kinds of delicacies, a gift from the Admiralty (or so Admiral Little had claimed, although Laurence was not sure if the rest of the Admiralty would be happy to know that their money was being spent on the wedding of a convict).

"We have gathered here in the sight of God to unite this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honourable estate, instituted of God, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church," Reverend Mallory continued, and Laurence's heart soared as he cast a quick glance around: the clearing was teeming with people and the edges of the clearing with dragons. All members – both human and dragon – of Emily's formation had come, the once nasty Captain Hawthorn possibly the most elegant of all. Catherine Harcourt was for a change wearing female attire and holding onto her husband's arm, Granby had come with his wife and daughter and had taken on the role of the best man, while Berkley, Sutton, Warren and the strangely sober Chenery were standing at the back by their dragons. There were several others around, one-time members of Laurence's crew, even Hackley had come with his dragon Antares, but Laurence suspected that Hackley and Antares might not be present for _his_ wedding, but for that of Temeraire and Iskierka, who were, after all, Antares' parents.

Laurence's eyes found Sipho and Demane in the crowd, both of them young adults now, and Hollin with his Winchester Elsie. Gong Su had also decided to attend, and to Laurence's delight the newly reinstated Lieutenant Ferris was standing right behind Harcourt and Riley, his eyes radiating gratitude as they met the groom's.

Once Laurence's eyes finished their quick scan around the clearing, they stopped on his mother, who, for the occasion, had forgone her usual black attire in favour of a dark lilac dress, and there were tears in her eyes, just like in Josephine's.

Little Jason was wearing his most elegant clothes and holding a silver tray with the rings, smiling smugly at the importance of his role. Their eyes met, and father and son exchanged a grin, then Laurence turned back to his bride, his smile fading a little upon seeing the sorrow in her eyes. Emily was possibly the most beautiful bride he had ever seen, and she was trying to look the happiest as well, but she could not deceive him. In three days they would be parted, at least for several years, but possibly forever, and she, like Laurence, could not get rid of the thought of their parting even here, before the makeshift altar. With all his willpower Laurence tried to radiate as much of his joy into her as he could, even though there was sadness in him too, beneath all the layers of happiness.

Emily gratefully returned his smile, her pretty face lighting up with momentary joy, her eyes sparkling more beautifully than the garnet necklace she wore to please Lady Allendale.

"…and is commended of Saint Paul to be honourable among all men," Reverend Mallory carried on, "and there is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men's carnal lusts and appetites; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which matrimony was ordained. First, it was ordained for the procreation of children…"

Laurence felt a flush rise in his cheeks as his eyes flitted to Emily's belly for a second, and saw that Emily too had blushed a bit. They grinned at each other at seeing each other's rosy cheeks and Laurence wondered if anyone of the guests had noticed their embarrassment. Well, perhaps Granby did, he thought. Granby, after all, noticed everything with the slightest hint of awkwardness.

"Secondly, it was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication…"

Laurence bit into his lower lip. That line felt a bit below the belt, but he knew he deserved it, and Emily must have been thinking along the same lines, for she gave him a challenging look which he took with ever-reddening cheeks.

"Thirdly, it was ordained for the mutual society, help and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity…"

Laurence once again saw sadness appear in Emily's eyes, and he knew it must have appeared in his as well. Their marriage would not be about mutual society, help and comfort – how could it be, with two oceans between them? His eyes shifted to Temeraire who gave him a compassionate but encouraging look, knowing exactly what his captain was going through. Then again, Laurence knew that Temeraire was going through the same: he too would be apart from his loved one for years and years before they had a chance to meet again… but at least Temeraire and Iskierka had long lives, almost two centuries before them with plenty of opportunities to meet, while he was no longer young, and if something happened to Little and a new Admiral of the Air was appointed – a new admiral who did not care to call him and Temeraire home from time to time – then all his hopes of seeing his family again would be crushed. Guilty at having such dark thoughts in the middle of the ceremony that was supposed to make him the happiest of men, Laurence forced his attention to return to the present and not linger in possible futures.

"…therefore if any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace."

Excidium shifted a bit and looked like someone who would love to say something, but upon seeing Emily's reprimanding look, he made a grimace and looked away.

Reverend Mallory apparently did not even notice the incident and carried on in a cheerful voice. "Answer me, William, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

He knew he could not be at Emily's side all the time for comfort and in sickness, but knowing that he would always keep himself to the rest of the vow, Laurence honestly said, "I will."

"And you, Emily, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

Emily gave her fiancé a playful grin when the phrase 'obey him and serve him' had been said, reminding Laurence well of their conversation two weeks earlier, but he was sure that she meant everything with the exception of obedience when she said, "I will."

As their hands were joined, Laurence recited his wedding vows, his throat constricting both with joy and sorrow, hope and fear. "I, William Laurence, take thee, Emily Roland, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance, and thereto I plight thee my troth."

There was a sniff from the left and Laurence knew that his mother had started crying. Tears were glinting in Emily's eyes as well as she said, "I, Emily Roland take thee, William Laurence, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance, and thereto I plight thee my troth."

Laurence felt tears prickling his eyes as well, but he fought them back, and eventually Emily managed to blink hers back too. Through the veil of unshed tears, her grey eyes glinted like a pair of diamonds – she was precious like the queen of gemstones with thousand facets, her facets being bravery, loyalty, feistiness, pragmatism, naughtiness and generosity. He knew she seemed to have changed compared to the little Emily he had met twelve years earlier at Loch Laggan, but under the layers of hurt, sorrow and defiance, she was still the same loveable creature. If she were not, he would not have fallen in love with her, he was now completely sure of that.

Months earlier, when Emily had woken up from her coma-like state and he had first confessed his love to her, she had said she had given him no reason to love her, and he had replied that sometimes one need not have a reason to love someone else. Now he knew he had been wrong, for she _had_ given him a reason to love her: even then, when his eyes could only see her constant nastiness, his heart had seen beyond the mask of coldness and cruelty, seen the real Emily hidden beneath, and the real Emily had never changed. And Laurence loved her more than ever before.

With slightly trembling hands, he took the smaller of the wedding rings from the silver tray held by Jason and slipped it onto Emily's finger. Her hands were not shaking as she repeated the same movements with the larger ring, but as their hands were joined after the exchange of wedding bands, he felt hers squeezing his as tightly as though she never wanted to release him – not now, not in three days, never.

"Hereby, with the power bestowed upon me by God, I pronounce you husband and wife," Reverend Mallory announced. "Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder."

_Tell this to those who have banished me_, Laurence thought sourly, but forced his face to not reveal his feelings – he had just married the love of his life. He was supposed to feel happy.

Amidst several sniffs, trumpeting nose-blows and moderate cheering, the newlyweds stepped aside and Admiral Little came forward. Lady Allendale had to gently nudge the unsuspecting Reverend Mallory to move aside, and the reverend obliged, but as soon as Little spoke up, the expression of utter horror spread on his face.

"Dearly beloved," Little said somewhat uneasily, "we have gathered here to witness the union of two loving hearts, the Celestial Temeraire and the Kazilik Iskierka. You two, please step forward. Or rather… stay where you are, if you do not want to trample on any of the guests by mistake…"

Iskierka snorted in a way very uncharacteristic of a gentle bride and sent Temeraire a questioning look.

"We might as well stay here," Temeraire replied. "It is not likely we would trample on anyone, but still… we have a few civilians here as well, no need to scare them… any more than they already are," he glanced at the reverend whose face had gone white and was muttering something about 'sacrilege'.

"Well then," Little carried on, "as you all know, I have received from His Royal Highness the Prince Regent the… hmm… _honour_ of being allowed to marry dragons. I have tried to put together a text from the Christian ceremony but without Christian content, and I must apologise in advance in case the result is a little… awkward at times. This is my first attempt, after all. So…" he wiped his beading forehead, "Matrimony, as you all know, was originally ordained for the procreation of children, but you two already have had four, so… let us move forward. Secondly, it was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication… which cannot even be spoken of where dragons are concerned, so… yes. Well, thirdly, it was ordained for the mutual society, help and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. This might apply to you two, even if you will not be seeing each other very often…" he let out a nervous laugh and Laurence cast a sideways glance at Temeraire and Iskierka to see the former wearing an appalled expression, the latter silently fuming.

"Well, if any man or dragon can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace."

"I! I object!" the reverend held up his hand, but Granby and Berkley discreetly silenced him.

"Anyone else?" Little looked around expectantly, then with a shrug, he continued, "Answer me, Temeraire, wilt thou have this lady dragon to thy wedded wife, to live together in the estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

Temeraire sent his fiancée a loving glance. "I will."

"And you, Iskierka, wilt thou have this male dragon to thy wedded husband, to live together in the estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him…"

"Obey and serve?" Iskierka snorted. "I only obey my Granby, and sometimes not even him, and I only serve the Corps and England… and sometimes not even those! Admiral, I thought you rewrote the stupid text to fit dragons; could you not have omitted this part?"

"Er… well," Little flushed. "Let us try again, shall we? And you, Iskierka, wilt thou have this male dragon to thy wedded husband, to live together in the estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love, honour and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

"Now, that's better," Iskierka said, batting her eyelashes at Temeraire from under her wreath of white roses. "And of course, I will."

"Hereby, with the power bestowed upon me by His Royal Highness the Prince Regent, I pronounce you husband and wife," Little concluded the ceremony with a sigh.

As Temeraire and Iskierka rubbed their muzzles together, Laurence felt tears prickling his eyes again. "My little one has grown up," he muttered to Emily, not ashamed of showing his emotions. She caught his neckcloth and pulled his head down for a thorough kiss.

oOo

The _Allegiance _was ready to sail, anchoring out at sea with Temeraire already on board, a small boat waiting for Laurence at the port of Dover, a marine sitting in it with a bored face, rolling his eyes at the little family saying their farewells just a few metres away.

Emily felt her heart was being torn out of her chest, that a part that was inherently hers was about to be cut off her, and she could do nothing to stop it. But she had to be strong, for her husband's sake and for Jason's sake.

Laurence sank to his knees before Jason and put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "You are now the man in the family, son. You have to take care of your sister and of your little brother or sister. Do you promise me that?"

The child sniffed and nodded, and Emily saw that his little face was contorted with the effort of holding his tears back, of showing himself as strong before his father as he was not feeling.

"I will, papa," Jason said in a small voice, "but I'm still confused…"

"Confused, son?"

"Yeah… will Emily's baby be my brother or sister… or my nephew or niece?"

Laurence let out a small laugh. "Both, Jason. Both."

"And you are not only my papa now, but also my brother-in-law, right?"

Laurence's mouth twitched as he replied, "Yes, son, that is correct."

"But… that is very… weird, isn't it?"

"Unusual, to say the least, but our family has always been extraordinary, so a little bit of weirdness does not matter."

"If you say so," Jason shrugged, then leaned forward and hugged his father. "Write me often, papa. I love you."

"I love you too, son. Very, very much. And I promise to write often." When Laurence pulled back, Emily saw unshed tears in his eyes, but he, just like his son, was keeping his emotions at bay.

Emily was almost grateful that Lady Allendale had said her good-byes to Laurence after the wedding, claiming that she did not feel strong enough to come and see her son sail away. Emily suspected that the lady might not have really meant it, as Emily had experienced more than once just how tough Adeline could be. She had a feeling that the lady might have wanted to give her and Jason – Laurence's 'new family' – a chance to say their good-byes alone. Lady Allendale had, after all, been always very tactful.

Releasing Jason, Laurence stood up and looked at Emily. "I do not know what to say," he admitted in a raspy voice, and she thought she had never seen him this dejected, as though she had seen her own sorrow reflected in his eyes.

"You do not need to say anything," she replied, taking his hands into hers. They stood like that for a minute or two, lost in each other's eyes. The marine in the boat must have got really impatient by now, but they did not care. This moment was theirs and theirs alone, and only God knew when they would be able to see each other again.

A seagull screeched above, whooshing a mere metre over their heads, shaking them back into reality, and Emily released her husband's hands, only to wind her arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss, the most desperate, painful kiss they had ever shared. The ones they had shared in the tunnel with the certainty of death approaching had been desperate, but not nearly as much as this one. Knowing that you were going to die was one thing, knowing you would be spending years, perhaps even an eternity without the one you love, was another. And the latter was incomparably worse.

It was Laurence who broke away, breathless, his eyes beseeching her for forgiveness, but she had nothing to forgive him: like always in their relationship, she had been the more impulsive one and he the more sensible; and ending the kiss before it caused them any more pain was just another act of sensibility. "I love you both," he said, and, his eyes flitting to Emily's slightly bulging belly, he corrected himself, "all three of you. Very much." With that, he turned on his heels and walked to the boat.

The marine let out a sigh that must have meant 'at last', but after that sigh the only sounds that reached Emily's ears were the splashes of oars taking the man she loved further and further away.

They stood there, Emily's left arm around Jason's shoulders, her right resting on her belly, watching as the boat reached the _Allegiance_. A few minutes later her husband was a small figure on deck as he propped himself on the railing, looking in their direction. With a wistful smile Emily thought that for him she and Jason too must have looked like two specks on the shore – a taller speck clad in pale pink and a shorter one in blue.

The _Allegiance_ weighed anchor, and something moved at the end of the ship – something large and black, and in the next instant Emily heard a roar – Temeraire's farewell.

They remained there, sister and brother, clinging to each other, the so far unshed tears freely flowing down their cheeks, and did not budge until the enormous dragon transport shrank into a tiny dot on the horizon.

oOo

**A/N: reviews would be much appreciated.**

**Historical notes, this time on the character of the Prince Regent**, the later George IV.

On George's death _The Times_ commented: "There never was an individual less regretted by his fellow-creatures than this deceased king. What eye has wept for him? What heart has heaved one throb of unmercenary sorrow? ... If he ever had a friend – a devoted friend in any rank of life – we protest that the name of him or her never reached us."

During the political crisis caused by Catholic emancipation, the Duke of Wellington said that George was "the worst man he ever fell in with his whole life, the most selfish, the most false, the most ill-natured, the most entirely without one redeeming quality", but in his eulogy he called George "the most accomplished man of his age" and praised his knowledge and talent. According to Wellington, George was "a magnificent patron of the arts ... the most extraordinary compound of talent, wit, buffoonery, obstinacy, and good feeling – in short a medley of the most opposite qualities, with a great preponderence of good – that I ever saw in any character in my life."

(source: wikipedia)


	18. Second Chance

**A/N: this, dear readers, is the end of the story. I hope you have enjoyed the ride, I most certainly enjoyed your reviews! :)**

**Chapter 18**

**Second Chance**

Temeraire wished he could do something, _anything_ to make Laurence hurt less, but for once he felt completely powerless. His own heart was aching at having had to say good-bye to his Iskierka, but he at least had a prospect of spending centuries with her in the future, although he knew that such a thing would require Laurence's death. Therefore he banished the thought of spending 'all eternity' with his beloved wife; he would rather have his captain alive.

His captain, for the time being, was standing by the rail, staring back towards the port of Dover, although Temeraire was sure that he could no longer make out Emily and Jason's figures, as he, with much sharper dragon eyes barely could any more. They were reduced to two tiny pinpricks, and yet they did not move from the shore just as Laurence did not move from the rail.

When Temeraire looked closer, he saw bitter tears running down his captain's cheeks, and Laurence, who was normally careful to not show his feelings to such an extent, did not even bother to wipe them, did not seem to mind that anyone of the ship's crew could see him weep.

Temeraire wondered if some of the crew could once have served under Laurence on various ships, and admired his captain even more for not feeling ashamed to show himself so fragile before those who had years and years ago considered him too tough a man to ever be caught crying.

Finally the ship turned in south-westerly direction and the white cliffs hid the port of Dover from their eyes. Laurence, however, still did not budge; he stood there like a statue carved of stone, although his tears had ceased.

Temeraire wanted to say something, to curl around him for comfort, but before he could move, before he could even clear his throat, Captain Riley stepped up to Laurence. "I hope what Catherine told me about Admiral Little's promise is true," Riley said, his voice sounding odd for some reason. "I hope you get to see your family soon again."

"If four or five years can be considered soon," Laurence replied flatly, propping his elbows on the rail and watching something below, probably the seagulls diving again and again into the waves to reappear with tiny fish in their beaks.

Riley put a hand on Laurence's shoulder. "Still… it is not eternity."

"No," Laurence said in a hollow voice. "It is not."

"And the lovely Emily Roland… I mean, Emily _Laurence_ will wait for you," Riley continued. "I know she will. I saw how much she loved you…"

"You saw it?" Laurence looked slightly surprised.

"Yeah… you know, I have attended a few weddings, my own included, but I have never seen a bride as sad and as happy at the same time as she looked. I wish Catherine had ever looked at me with the tenth of that emotion… but it never worked out for us. I hope it will for you two. Even… even if you have to be apart from her, you are a damn lucky man, Laurence, to have someone like her to love you… and I whole-heartedly congratulate you on your marriage… and your son. I would congratulate on the baby as well, if I did not deem it unfortunate to do it before the birth."

Laurence nodded with a dark expression. "Anything could happen. I know."

Riley's grip on his shoulder tightened. "I am sure nothing will happen to Emily or the child. God would not let that happen… again."

"I hope you are right, my friend."

Temeraire hung his head. He knew that his captain was strong and could take a lot, but losing a second mate in childbirth was surely beyond what he could take without losing his sanity.

"Your son, Jason," Riley carried on in a lighter tone, "takes a lot after you. Seems like quite a handful to me…"

"Yes," Laurence smiled, for the first time since he had set foot on board. "He is a handful, but he is perfect in every respect… sometimes I wonder how I could ever have created someone as amazing as him."

Riley grinned. "I know the feeling. I feel the same way about Mark… if only I could spend more time with him… and with Catherine."

"Is… your relationship… truly beyond repair?" Laurence asked with a sad expression. "You two looked such a… normal couple at the wedding."

Riley heaved a sigh. "Before your wedding, I thought it _was _beyond repair… but ever since she spotted me there and sought out my company, I must admit that I have had hopeful moments. She means more to me than she could imagine. She is just… too pragmatic and cool-headed to notice it."

"She is an aviator, what can you expect?" Laurence said with an embarrassed half-smirk. "They are like that. They do not need bouquets of roses or jewellery or flattery… they are content to have an opportunity to grab your neckcloth and drag you into bed."

"And that is what we love about them, eh?" Riley laughed.

"Yes," Laurence flushed. "I think."

"Sir," Riley's second lieutenant hurried up to them, "sir, we are getting company. Look!" He pointed in north-eastern direction where a tiny dot had appeared on the horizon.

"It is a courier, Laurence," Temeraire observed. "A courier I remember seeing at the London covert, though I do not know her name…"

Both Laurence and Riley shaded their eyes to make out the little beast better. It was a Winchester almost as big as Elsie, with purplish skin.

In a minute the dragon touched down next to Temeraire, and its captain spoke up, "Excuse me and Amaryllis for the sudden entry, we have been sent with an urgent message from His Royal Highness the Prince Regent."

Both Laurence and Temeraire stiffened at this.

"My name is Captain Fitzgerald, by the way," Amaryllis' captain introduced himself. "Is there a William Laurence on board?"

"It is I," Laurence stepped forward.

"Then this is for you, sir," Captain Fitzgerald shook a letter in Laurence's face, the seal bearing the royal coat of arms of the House of Hanover.

"Thank you, sir," Laurence took the envelope with hands that seemed to be shaking to Temeraire.

"Welcome," Captain Fitzgerald inclined his head, then nudged Amaryllis to go aloft, and with a wave of his hand towards those on board, they flew away.

"What is it, Laurence?" Temeraire enquired.

"I do not know," his captain replied, and with still shaky hands opened the letter – tore it open, to be more precise, for him a highly uncharacteristic way of handling something as delicate as a sheet of paper.

Temeraire watched as Laurence's eyes skimmed the letter, quickly reaching from the top to the bottom, then beginning to skim it again from the top, as if he had not believed what he had read the first time around.

"Bad news?" Temeraire asked in a small voice, and was shocked when his captain looked up, tears brimming his eyes. "_So_ bad news?"

Laurence shook his head and blinked, letting the tears cascade down his face. "No, my dear. Not bad news at all."

"But then…?" Temeraire glanced at Riley whose expression reflected his own confusion.

With his hands clutching at the letter, crumpling it but very likely not noticing that he was crumpling it, Laurence stepped closer to his dragon, his face radiating some mystical, heavenly joy mixed with shock and disbelief. "Temeraire… we have been granted a free pardon," he said, his voice wavering, the letter getting more and more crumpled in his hands.

"A free pardon?" Temeraire blinked. "You mean…? You mean…?"

He had never seen such a brilliant smile grace Laurence's lips as then, when he said, "We are going home, my dear. We are going home."

oOo

_Dear Your Majesty,_

_I hope You are doing well. I was not sure You wud care to reply when I wrote You my first leter, but I was very hapy when You still replyd. _

_You wrote You wanted to here from me when my litle sister or brother was born. Well, too days ago Emily had her baby. Sadly it is a girl, so I cannot play with it much, but Emily is happy. Eccidium is hapy too, and grandmother also because she finaly has a granddoter she always wanted. And papa is very hapy about the baby too of corse. He and Emily named my sister Adeline Jane, after her granmothers. Papa says she is the most beutiful baby girl in the world, but I think she is too smal and wrinkli to be pretty. And she is noizy too. _

_I hope it makes You happy that both Emily and the baby are doing fine. I hope You too will get a healcy grandchild soon. I shell keep my fingers crost._

_Imagine, Your Majesty, I am now a Laurence too! When papa got his free pardun, he asked me if I wanted to have his name, because it was no longer teinted, and I said of corse! Bythe way, we are stil very greatful to You because we know the free pardun was your doing, not the Princregents. So I have bin adapted, and now I am Jason Laurence._

_Also, we have moved from the covert into Dover but clos to the covert. We now have a small house that Temeraire and Iskierka bought us. They sold their golden talun sheets, you know. It was their wedingift to papa and Emily. Papa blushed very much when Temeraire told him what he and Iskierka bought us. You know, papa does not have much money, I am not sure he cud buy even a smal house. The only gift that made papa blush this much was the pumicestone __that__ Captin Granby gave Emily as a wedingift. It was __carved into a pencillike shape and he__ said it was for fingernails. I saw both papa and Emily blush, but I do not know why. Maybe I will ask papa some day._

_I am finising this leter, because I cannot think of anything els to say. I will write again when I can think of someting. _

_Your obedient servent,_

_Jason Laurence_

Janury 22, 1818

**FIN**

**A/N: eventually you got your happy ending, so you cannot complain. ;)**

**Please grace me with a final review, or with first if you have never reviewed this story! Based on my stats there are over a hundred faithful readers to this fic, and only five or six faithful reviewers! All your lurkers, please unlurk just this once! :)**

**After the historical notes, be sure to read the sneak preview of my upcoming Temeraire fanfic! **

**Historical (and various) notes:**

1. Pumice stones were used as nail files, Marie Antoinette was a famous user of the pumice stone to take care of her nails. Sadly I have not been able to find any information on when the modern nail file or the modern nail scissors were made up, and since this story takes place only 20 years after Marie Antoinette died, I assumed that the characters should be using pumice stones for polishing the edges of their nails.

2. Jason writes that he hopes Queen Charlotte will have a healthy grandchild soon. It so happened that in November 1817 Princess Charlotte, the Prince Regent's only legitimate child and Queen Charlotte's only legitimate grandchild died in childbirth after being delivered of a stillborn son. After her death the Prince Regent's younger brothers began seeking out wives to produce an heir to the throne and one of them (Edward) fathered Princess Victoria who later became Queen Victoria.

oOo

**And now, here's the preview from a story I will come out in a few weeks, two months at most. I'm not sure of the title yet, but it might be **_**Sins of the Fathers**_**. If you don't want to miss it, just add me to your author alert list if you haven't done so yet. And remember: reviews on my earlier Temeraire fics make me write this one quicker! ;)**

"Thank you, but I need nothing," Jane shook her head. "Your son has asked me to have this delivered to you before he left for Australia," she fished the letter out of her coat. There was a sharp intake of breath, and Jane knew well what it meant: a mother's surprise, shock and utter relief. "Yes," Jane sent the countess a small smile, "he is no longer sentenced to death but… exiled. I am sorry, Lady Allendale…"

"Do not be, dear Admiral," the old woman said with tears in her eyes. "William lives, and that is what counts. Thank you for going to so much trouble and delivering the letter."

"Oh, it was no trouble, I needed a few days off anyway, fighting Napoleon does that to you… it's damn tiring. As for the letter… Laurence wanted you to have it. You and no one else, especially not his father." Seeing a sad twinkle in the lady's eyes, Jane quickly added, "But I do not intend to further impose. I only request one or two cows for my dragon who has flown all the way from Dover and is quite hungry."

"Oh, of course, Admiral, the stable boys will help you with that," Lady Allendale replied, taking the letter from her.

Seeing the old woman's hands tremble as she touched the paper, it was obvious for Jane that she wished for nothing more than to be left alone and have a chance to read the letter's contents. Just as she cleared her throat to say good-bye, a shaky male voice spoke up from the staircase, "Who is there, Adeline?"

"It is Admiral Roland of the Aerial Corps," the lady replied, quickly slipping the letter into her pocket.

"What… what does the Aerial Corps want of us again?" the male voice grunted.

A sharp reply was on the tip of Jane's tongue, but she froze as her eyes fell upon an old man at the top of the staircase. He was wearing a dark velvet dressing gown, and he was leaning on a stick, his back slightly stooped and his breathing heavy – apparently even a few steps had required great effort of him. The first thought that came to Jane's mind was how this man had aged since she had last seen him, the second thought was if he recognised her at all. His eyes held some sort of contempt as he glowered down on her, but no recognition. Perhaps he was just good at hiding it, or perhaps he had become senile with old age. Still, Jane was not entirely sure if the contempt in Lord Allendale's eyes was directed at her aviator status, or at something… else. And she definitely did not feel like staying and finding out.

"I have been on duty in the vicinity, Lord Allendale," she said, angry at her shaking voice, "and when we last met, Lady Allendale was gracious enough to offer a cow for my dragon whenever it was needed. I must be off now, and thank you for the cow in Excidium's name." With a tiny inclination of her head, she turned on her heels and marched for the front door. Jane Roland, Admiral of the Air, was fleeing like a child caught red-handed. Well, as they say, there's a first time for everything…


End file.
